OH,  SUSANNA! 

A  Romance  of  the  Old 
American  Merchant  Marine 


BY 


MEADE  MINNIGERODE 

Author  of  "  Laughing  House," 
"The  Big  Year,"  etc. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW   YORK    AND    LONDON 

Gbe    Isnfcfcerbocfter.    prees 
1922 


Copyright,  1932 

by 

Meade  Minnigerode 

Made  in  the  United  States  of  America 


qui 


To 

Those  Who  Have 

Sailed 

.  .  .  some  stately  ship  that  from  afar 
Shone  sudden,  like  a  star, 
With  all  her  bravery  on  .  .  .  " 


M528465. 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

The  author  has  referred  extensively  to  the  following 
authorities,  and  wishes  to  acknowledge  his  indebted- 
ness to  them 


The  Clipper  Ship  Era, 
The  Forty-Niners, 
Sailors'  Songs, 
History  of  California, 


A.  H.  Clark. 
Stewart  Edward  White. 
F.  J.  Davis,  R.N.R. 
H.  H.  Bancroft 


This  book  is  not  intended  as  an  historical  novel.  On 
the  other  hand  every  effort  has  been  made  to  repro- 
duce the  spirit  of  the  times  concerned  as  faithfully  as 
possible. 


CONTENTS 


The  Torn  Page 


PAGE 
11 


PART  I 

CHAPTER 

I. — Gifts  from  the  Sea 
II. — The  Fearless  Ships 

III. — Fireworks  and  Felicity 

IV. — The  Lacquer  Box 
V. — The  Blue  Elephant 

VI. — A  Song  in  the  Night   . 

VII. — Home  is  the  Sailor 

PART  II 
I. — Hjot  Corn  and  Packets 
II. — The  Golden-Haired  Girl     . 
III. — Polkas  and  Sheath  Knives 
IV. — Threads  of  Romance    . 

V. — Midwinter  Madness 

7 


17 
34 
49 
67 
85 
102 
121 

135 
148 
179 
196 

225 


Contents 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 


VI. — A  Song  in  the  Morning      .        .        .    243 

VII. — Handspike  Hash 272 

VIII.— The  Nightingale  of  Panama      .        .    303 
IX.— The  Sydney  Ducks       .        .        .        .317 

X.— El  Dorado 343 

XL— The  Howling  Twelve  .        .        .        .360 
XII.— Oh,  Susanna! 377 


8 


OH,  SUSANNA! 


THE  TORN  PAGE 

IT  is  just  a  page  torn  from  a  ship's  log  book,  very 
■*•  creased  and  yellow.  The  writing  it  bears  is  fine 
and  well  formed,  the  writing  of  a  more  leisurely 
age.    The  matters  it  discusses  are  very  strange. 

".  .  .  his  insane  desire  to  secure  the  blue  china 
elephant.  ...  Of  the  black  lacquer  box  I  always 
had  my  suspicions.    .    .    ." 

".  .  .  on  that  night  when  my  father  returned 
from  aboard  the  stranded  junk  ...  it  must  be 
that  Ah  Fung,  the  Chinese  merchant,  unwittingly 
aroused    .    .    ." 

The  words  were  written  by  Matthew  Parsons,  the 
great  Handsome  Mat,  in  San  Francisco,  many  years 
ago,  and  the  page  which  holds  them  is  a  cherished 
relic  in  the  Parsons  family  today. 

It  hangs  in  its  ebony  frame  in  the  office  of  Mat- 
thew Parsons  Second,  the  President  of  the  Hermes 
Steamship  Line  of  New  York.  Above  it  hangs  a 
picture  of  the  beautiful  Felicity  Belle,  1818,  the  ship 

11 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

which  Gamaliel  Parsons  named  for  Felicity  Moore 
of  the  dancing  eyes.  Below  it  hangs  the  photograph 
of  the  great  Hermantic,  1918,  the  flagship  of  the 
Hermes  Line. 

Three  generations  .  .  . 

For  it  is  in  the  blood  of  the  Parsons  men,  and  in 
that  of  many  of  their  womenfolk,  that  they  should 
serve  the  sea,  and  send  the  Flag  on  distant  voyages, 
for  adventure  and  for  profit,  and  above  all  for  love 
of  the  task. 

".  .  .  in  great  peril  of  my  life" — says  the  document 
— "and  an  ill  intentioned  mob  clamoring  to  hang  me, 
for  that  I  had  placed  five  of  the  packet  rats  in  irons. 
For  our  success  in  frustrating  plans,  I  owe  much  to 
my  mate,  a  most  profane  man  but  handy  with  his  fists, 
and  a  terror  with  a  handspike,  praise  God.  And  now  I 
wish  to  speak  of  other  matters.  .  .  ." 

So  much  for  the  mutiny,  or  whatever  it  may  have 
been.  Matthew  wastes  no  more  time  on  it,  but  at 
least  one  is  glad  to  know  that  the  mate  was  a  terror 
with  a  handspike !  It  seems  as  though  his  skill  may 
have  been  put  to  good  use  on  that  occasion. 

"Because" — the  document  goes  on — "had  it  not  been 
for  the  actions  of  that  scoundrel,  Panama  Joe,  in  his 

12 


THE  TORN  PAGE 

insane  desire  to  secure  the  blue  china  elephant,  the 
laughing  elephant  of  my  boyhood,  never  would  I  have 
discovered  the  meaning  of  the  dying  Chinaman's  mes- 
sage, given  to  me  when  I  was  in  Yeddo. 

"Of  the  black  lacquer  box  I  always  had  my  suspicions, 
and  my  father  himself  told  me  of  the  contradictory 
prophecies  concerning  the  elephant,  but  surely  he  for 
his  part  knew  nothing  of  the  latter  such  as  I  discovered 
on  that  night  and  of  the  tale  which  drove  Panama  Joe 
to  his  folly. 

"For  it  seems,  on  that  night  when  my  father  returned 
from  aboard  the  stranded  junk  with  the  Min  Hsing 
elephant,  to  the  great  annoyance  I  do  not  doubt  of  Tuan 
Ismail,  the  pirate,  that  it  must  be  that  Ah  Fung,  the 
Chinese  merchant,  unwittingly  aroused    .    .    ." 

The  page  ends  there. 

Of  course  the  curious  events  which  it  sets  forth 
happened  many  years  ago,  and  they  refer  to  other 
events  which  had  taken  place  long  before,  at  the  edge 
of  misty  coast  lines  fringed  with  palms,  throbbing 
with  the  sound  of  ceremonial  gongs,  in  sweet  scented 
gardens  under  the  shadow  of  gilt  pagodas,  and  on 
the  quarterdecks  of  graceful  sailing  ships,  riding  at 
anchor  at  the  mouths  of  mysterious  rivers,  in  the 
golden  days  of  the  Yankee  merchant  mariners. 

They  still  have  the  black  lacquer  in  the  Parsons 
home,  and  they  know  its  story  now,  and  that  of  the 

13 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Laughing  Elephant — but  of  course  the  latter  stayed 
in  San  Francisco  on  that  last  night. 

And  the  story  of  the  Golden  Haired  Girl,  who 
sang  the  Song  that  went  around  the  world    .    .    . 


14 


PART  ONE 

f.    .    .  they  built  great  ships,  and  sailed  them 

\    .    .  we're  bound  to  go,  so  better  sing 
Than  pipe  your  tears  away. 
Heave  away,  my  Johnnie  boys, 
We're  all  bound  to  go.  .  .  /' 


15 


CHAPTER  I 
GIFTS  FROM  THE  SEA 

1 

"  YY/HAT  do  you  want  to  be,  Matthew,  when  you 

*  *  grow  up?"  they  used  to  ask  him.  "A  mer- 
chant?" 

"No,  ma'am." 

"A  Senator?" 

"No,  ma'am." 

"President  of  the  United  States?" 

"No  ma'am." 

"Oh,  of  course,  he  may  not  be  President,  the  lad 
was  born  at  sea.  But  still  it  was  aboard  an  Ameri- 
can vessel.  Well,  what  does  he  want  to  be  when 
he  grows  up  ?" 

"The  dandy  mate  of  a  Black  Ball  packet !"  came 
the  invariable  answer. 

For  a  while,  to  be  sure,  the  proprietorship  of  the 
sumptuous  City  Hotel,  with  its  five  stories  and  its 

17 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

seventy-five  elegant  rooms,  had  appealed  to  him  as  a 
fascinating  aspiration,  but  the  other  ambition  had 
soon  put  all  thought  of  emulating  Mr.  Willard  and 
Mr.  Jennings  out  of  his  mind.  Funny  Mr.  Willard 
who  was  never  known  to  stir  beyond  the  confines  of 
his  building. 

"He  can't  walk  a  block  without  getting  lost!" 
Matthew  would  relate  with  glee.  "He  doesn't  know 
where  Mr.  Windust's  oyster  cellar  is,  and  he's  never 
been  to  Niblo's,  and  I  expect  everybody  in  New 
York  has  been  to  Niblo's,  haven't  they,  Mother?" 

This  was  in  the  days  when  his  mother  went  to  Mr. 
Jotham  Smith's,  on  Broadway,  for  her  materials, 
and  to  Mr.  Thomas  Hogg's  to  see  the  flowers  from 
his  nurseries  at  Hogg's  Gardens,  way  up  in  the 
Bloomingdale  Road.  A  very  uncomfortable  journey 
by  stage  from  the  Battery.  The  days  when  little 
Matthew  Parsons  lived  in  the  brick  house  with  the 
green  shutters,  on  State  Street  near  the  Bowling 
Green. 

Castle  Clinton  Fort  had  just  entered  upon  its  more 
profitable,  if  less  bellicose,  career  as  the  Castle 
Garden,  and  back  in  1824,  when  he  was  three  years 
old,  Matthew  remembered  having  seen  great  crowds 
of  people  swarming  around  its  approaches  to  cheer 

18 


GIFTS  FROM  THE  SEA 

a  very  fine  gentleman  with  a  sword,  and  a  cocked 
hat,  covered  with  gold  lace. 

"Who  was  it,  Mother  ?"  he  had  asked.  "Why  did 
the  people  cheer  so — what  had  he  done,  the  gentle- 
man ?" 

"That  was  the  Marqms  de  Lafayette,"  his  mother 
had  told  him.  "He  was  a  very  brave  soldier  who 
came  from  France  to  help  General  Washington.  He 
has  returned  to  America  for  a  visit." 

Of  course  little  Matthew  thought  very  little  indeed 
of  these  expeditions  to  Mr.  Jotham  Smith's. 

"I  think  I'll  look  at  some  cordurets,  or  some 
ribdelurs." 

"Yes,  Madam.    A  nice  shalloon  perhaps?" 

"Or  have  you  some  callimancoes  .  .  ." 

These  things  bored  Master  Matthew  to  tears. 
And  this  was  only  the  beginning  of  such  negotia- 
tions. There  would  invariably  follow  camblets  and 
platillas,  amens,  durants  and  ticklenburgs.  And 
then  very  probably  some  endless  talk  about  a  "con- 
versation cottage  model,"  which  seemed  to  be  some 
sort  of  hat. 

Now  if  they  had  only  talked  about  knots  and 
bends,  knight  heads  or  breast  hooks,  he  would  have 
had  something  to  say;  for  although  at  first  sound 

19 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

these  things  might  seem  to  have  to  do  with  millinery, 
they  were  actually  connected  with  that  most  absorb- 
ing of  all  subjects,  a  ship ! 

The  only  excuse  for  these  hours  wasted  in  the  pur- 
suit of  fashion,  in  Matthew's  estimation,  was  that 
they  quite  frequently  included  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Pop- 
pleton's  delectable  confectionery  counter,  or  to  Mr. 
Cullen's  gaudy  magnesian  shop  for  the  consumption 
in  large  quantities  of  ice  cream  and  soda  water. 

Likewise  on  occasions  their  itinerary  could  be  so 
arranged  as  to  afford  an  opportunity  to  pass  in  front 
of  Mr.  Peter  Cotte's,  where  if  Fate  was  kindly  dis- 
posed there  might  be  seen  hanging  beside  his  door  a 
bunch  of  those  funny  yellow  things,  with  the  thick 
skin  that  peeled  off  so  smoothly  and  conveniently, 
and  must  not  be  left  upon  the  cobblestones. 

"What  are  they,  Mother?"  he  had  asked  the  first 
time. 

"They  call  them  bananas,"  he  was  told. 

From  the  standpoint  of  edibility  they  were  pos- 
sessed of  an  undoubtedly  palatable  charm,  but  what 
Matthew  liked  most  about  them  was  that  they  had 
come  in  a  ship,  from  palm  fringed  beaches  in  the 
West  Indies. 

They  were  gifts  from  the  sea.  .  .  . 
20 


GIFTS  FROM  THE  SEA 


There  were  many  such  gifts  from  the  sea  in  the 
little  house  on  State  Street,  near  the  Bowling  Green. 
On  the  walls  and  mantelpieces,  in  the  china  closets 
and  the  scented  clothes  presses,  and  on  the  shelves  of 
the  mother  of  pearl  cabinet  in  the  parlor.  Gifts  of 
which  many  other  houses,  not  so  closely  associated 
with  the  sea,  could  not  boast.  Gifts  whose  presence 
gave  its  tone  to  the  house,  and  illuminated  its  dark- 
est corners,  like  the  colored  illustrations  of  a  book  of 
travel  open  upon  a  table. 

All  the  hundred  and  one  things  of  ivory,  and  gold, 
and  jade,  satinwood,  brocade  and  amber,  which  his 
father,  Gamaliel  Parsons,  the  Master  Mariner,  had 
brought  back  with  him  from  the  gleaming  Orient  in 
overflowing  hampers.  Presents  for  his  mother, 
ivory  chess  men,  and  Mandarin  coats,  and  Malay 
chenangkas,  lacquer,  porcelain  and  silks.  Gold  and 
red  and  yellow,  very  gorgeous.  Things  of  peace  and 
of  war,  priceless  things,  things  of  no  value  at  all, 
but  everything  of  surpassing  wonder.  Extraordi- 
nary objects  whose  very  names  were  thrilling. 

The  wonderful  rectangular  lacquered  box,  for  in- 
stance, on  the  middle  shelf  of  the  mother  of  pearl 

21 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

cabinet.  All  black  and  gold,  and  so  smooth  and 
shiny,  with  a  beautiful  crest  of  gold  circles  repeated 
three  times,  on  the  lid  and  on  the  sides.  All  around 
it  was  twined  a  red  and  gold  silk  cord  with  very 
elaborate  knots  and  heavy  tassels.  It  seemed  it  was 
a  jobako. 

".  .  .  the  long  shiny  box,  there,  all  black  and 
gold?"  his  mother  would  say,  holding  him  up  before 
the  glittering  cabinet.  "That's  lacquer,  from  a  place 
called  Japan.    It's  very  far  away,  yes  dear." 

"And  did  Daddy  get  it  there?" 

"Yes  dear.  It  was  given  to  him  at  a  great  recep- 
tion in  Yeddo — into  his  own  hands  as  a  special  mark 
of  favor.    By  the  Shogun  himself." 

"What's  a  Shogun,  Mother?" 

"He's  like  a  Governor,  and  he  wears  long  swords 
in  his  belt,  and  carries  a  fan." 

"Oh,  Mother!  Not  a  fan — why  does  he  carry  a 
fan?" 

"Yes  dear.  All  Japanese  gentlemen  carry  fans, 
and  they  walk  about  on  wooden  shoes  and  take  them 
off  when  they  go  indoors.    .    .    ." 

"Oh,  Mother!" 

"Yes,  and  the  walls  of  the  houses  are  made  of 
paper  screens,  and  they  eat  with  little  ebony  sticks, 

22 


GIFTS  FROM  THE  SEA 

and  sit  on  the  floor  because  they  haven't  any  chairs. 
Your  father  has  often  told  me.  He  prizes  the  box 
very  highly,  more  than  everything  else  in  the 
cabinet." 

Fans  and  wooden  shoes,  and  paper  screens,  and 
ebony  sticks !    Well,  well    .    .    . 

On  one  occasion  Matthew  managed  to  get  his 
hands  on  the  precious  box  without  being  seen.  It 
simply  cried  out  loud  to  be  opened. 

Of  course  Matthew  had  no  way  of  knowing  thai 
it  was  an  official  despatch  box,  and  that  the  golden 
circles  on  the  lid  and  sides  were  the  crest  of  one  of 
the  greatest  princes  in  Japan.  Nor  yet  whose  fingers 
had  last  touched  those  heavy  silken  tassels  with  the 
braided  bows.  He  unfastened  the  cord  quickly,  and 
peeped  inside. 

The  interior  was  all  smooth  and  shiny  like  the 
outside,  but  gold  in  color,  speckled  with  red.  There 
was  nothing  at  all  in  it  except  a  shrivelled  up  bit  of 
wood,  like  a  twig,  which  slid  around  drily  and  sound- 
lessly from  side  to  side  as  Matthew  shook  the  box, 
and  some  very  fine  dust. 

"There's  nothing  but  an  old  stick!"  he  said  to 
himself,  without  stopping  to  consider  the  incongruity 
of  such  a  discovery  in  so  gorgeous  a  receptacle. 

23 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

But  he  left  it  there.  Some  instinct  told  him  that 
it  belonged  there.  He  tied  the  cords  together  again 
and  put  the  box  back  in  its  place,  nor  for  some  rea- 
son did  he  ever  ask  about  the  twig  inside  when 
his  mother  was  telling  the  story  of  the  famous 
reception  in  Yeddo.  Very  probably  because  he 
would  have  been  spanked  and  put  on  bread  and 
water  for  ever  having  touched  the  box  in  the 
first  place. 

"Yes  my  dear,  given  to  my  husband  by  the  Sho- 
gun himself,"  his  mother  was  always  telling  visitors 
as  though  she  knew  all  about  it.  "Into  his  own 
hands  as  a  mark  of  favor.  Gamaliel  has  often  told 
me  about  it.    .    .    ." 

No  doubt. 

But  Matthew  would  have  been  very  much  sur- 
prised had  he  known  the  real  story  of  the  black  and 
gold  lacquer  box,  and  the  withered  twig  inside  might 
have  taken  on  a  quite  fascinating  significance  for 
him.  His  mother  would  have  been  very  much  sur- 
prised also ! 

Because  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  box  had  not  been 
given  to  Gamaliel  by  the  S  ho  gun.  As  a  mark  of 
favor,  yes,  and  into  his  own  hands,  certainly — but 
not  by  the  Shogun,  not  by  the  Shogun. 

24 


GIFTS  FROM  THE  SEA 
How  angry  the  Chinaman  had  been  that  night. 


Then  there  was  that  blue  porcelain  elephant,  the 
Min  Hsing  elephant,  who  lived  on  the  dining  room 
mantelpiece,  under  the  painting  of  the  Felicity  Belle. 

He  was  a  wonderful  robin's  tgg  blue,  speckled 
with  pale  green,  and  he  stood  very  straight  with  his 
legs  close  together  and  his  toes  turned  out.  His 
eyes  and  tusks  were  creamy  white,  and  his  back  was 
pleasantly  arched,  as  though  he  were  waiting  to 
be  scratched. 

"Back  all  lound,  all  same  cat,"  as  it  seemed  that 
his  father's  Chinese  friend,  Ah  Fung,  had  described 
it. 

In  behind  his  ears  and  under  his  stomach  the  skin 
hung  in  heavy  china  folds,  and  his  twisted  trunk  was 
all  creased.  He  held  his  head  a  little  to  one  side, 
and  smiled  perpetually  and  most  engagingly  from  a 
long  pointed  lower  lip,  over  the  edge  of  which  his 
tongue  came  forth  impertinently.  Aside  from  all 
this  he  was  hollow,  and  emitted  bronze-like  noises 
when  rapped  upon. 

Matthew's  father  often  did  so,  chuckling  to  him- 
25 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

self,  and  it  was  understood  that  the  elephant  was 
very  precious,  although  Gamaliel  was  always  saying 
that  he  had  obtained  him  for  a  song. 

"See  him,  Mother?"  Matthew  would  say.  "He 
looks  as  though  he  were  laughing  at  something  all 
the  time,  doesn't  he?" 

"Yes  dear.  I  expect  he  thinks  we're  very  queer 
and  funny — not  like  the  people  in  China  where  he 
comes  from.  .  .  ." 

Which  was  not  what  the  Min  Using  elephant  was 
laughing  at  at  all,  of  course. 

Nor  had  Gamaliel  brought  him  back  from  China, 
Foo  Chow  or  Ningpo,  or  some  such  place,  as  he  al- 
ways allowed  his  wife  to  believe.  No  wonder  the 
Min  Hsing  elephant,  who  knew  all  about  these  things 
and  a  few  others,  stood  there  all  day  long  on  the 
dining  room  mantelpiece,  under  the  painting  of  the 
Felicity  Belle,  and  laughed. 


But  after  all  the  black  and  gold  lacquer  box,  and 
the  laughing  Min  Hsing  elephant,  and  all  the  count- 
less other  objects  were  Matthew's  only  to  look  at, 
and  possibly  touch  very  cautiously  when  no  one  was 

26 


GIFTS  FROM  THE  SEA 

watching.  Treasures  to  be  greatly  admired  and 
wondered  at,  but  they  did  not  really  belong  to  him. 

"Be  careful,  Matthew,  leave  Mama's  things  alone, 
that's  a  good  boy — go  out  and  play  in  the  Battery 
Park.    .    .    ." 

The  letter  from  his  father,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
all  his  very  own,  addressed  to  Master  Matthew  Par- 
sons, New  York,  just  like  that,  and  delivered  into 
his  own  hands  by  the  ship's  Captain  who  had  brought 
it  back  with  him,  to  be  gloated  over  and  learned  by 
heart  from  his  mother's  lips  before  he  could  read 
it  for  himself. 

"The  American  Ship,  Felicity  Belle/'  said  the 
letter.  "Valparaiso,  Valley  of  Paradise,  26th  July, 
1824 

"I  hope  my  dear  boy  will  receive  in  safety  this  letter 
which  I  have  the  pleasure  to  write  to  him  from  Val- 
paraiso, and  I  am  sure  that  it  will  afford  him  much 
satisfaction  to  hear  from  me.  The  more  particularly 
so  when  I  can  tell  him,  as  I  do  now,  that  I  am  very 
well  and  often  think  of  him,  and  of  dear  Mother. 

"As  I  know  he  is  a  good  boy  I  have  thought  it  would 
please  him  to  get  a  letter  from  his  Father,  who  would 
be  very  glad  to  send  him  the  Parrot  he  mentioned  to 
dear  Mother — for  there  are  many  beautiful  varieties 
here — if  the  great  distance  of  transportation  left  any 
reasonable  hope  of  the  saucy  bird's  arrival  in  safety. 

27 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"I  would  not  for  a  moment,  on  account  of  your  being 
such  a  good  boy,  doubt  that  Mama  will  tell  me  that  you 
continue  to  be  so. 

"Give  dear  Mother  a  kiss  for  me,  and  tell  her  that  I 
wish  her  every  happiness  that  she  can  wish  for  herself, 
or  this  world  allow. 

"Heaven  bless  her,  and  you,  my  Son, 
"says  your  Father 

"Gamaliel  Parsons." 


And  a  beautiful  curlicue  under  the  signature,  all 
loops  and  twists  of  fine  and  heavy  pen  strokes,  just 
like  the  ones  on  his  father's  testimonial  from  the 
Commander  of  the  privateer  Chaser,  hanging  on  the 
wall  in  the  parlor. 

Matthew  was  delighted  with  the  letter,  although 
he  was  not  so  captivated  by  the  idea  of  being  good, 
whose  reiteration  seemed  entirely  superfluous.  But 
the  piece  in  the  letter  about  the  parrot,  that  saucy 
bird,  was  interesting  if  disappointing,  and  the  cur- 
licue was  enchanting,  a  thing  to  be  laboriously  copied 
on  every  piece  of  paper  that  came  to  his  inky  fingers. 

And  then  the  letter  had  come  to  him  all  the  way 
from  Valparaiso,  across  blue  water  on  a  ship,  and 
this  made  of  it  an  enormously  romantic  treasure. 
With  very  little  trouble  Matthew  could  persuade 

28 


GIFTS  FROM  THE  SEA 

himself  that  it  smelted  of  salt  and  tar.    He  sat  with 
it  apart  in  the  little  house  on  State  Street,  near  the 
Bowling  Green,  and  cherished  it. 
It  was  his  own  gift  from  the  sea. 


But  when  all  was  said  and  done  perhaps  the  finest 
gift  the  sea  brought  to  Matthew  was  his  own  daddy, 
on  those  occasions  when  the  latter  came  laughing 
into  the  little  house  on  State  Street,  and  caught  him 
up  in  his  arms  to  be  tossed  up  and  down  by  the 
strong  sunburned  hands,  kicking  and  squealing  with 
glee,  while  his  mother  hovered  smilingly  below. 

His  daddy,  Captain  Parsons,  the  great  Gamaliel 
Parsons,  the  best  known  merchant  navigator  on 
the  waterfront  and  the  handsomest,  a  hero  of  1812, 
home  from  some  distant  voyage  with  his  beautiful 
ship  at  rest  in  the  East  River,  heavily  laden  with 
precious  cargoes;  loaned  by  the  sea  for  a  few  jeal- 
ously vouchsafed  weeks,  so  that  a  little  boy  might 
clamber  up  on  his  knees  and  pester  him  with  eager 
questions. 

There  was  no  holding  Matthew  on  those  great 
days. 

29 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"What  do  you  think,  Matthew  ?"  his  mother  would 
ask  him.    "What  do  you  think  Mother  has  heard  ?" 

"A  surprise — is  it  a  surprise?" 

"Yes,  dear,  a  splendid  surprise !" 

"I  know  I"  he  would  shout.  "My  daddy  is  home 
— I  know — is  it,  Mother,  is  that  it " 

"Yes,  your  grand-daddy  Moore  says  the  Felicity 
Belle  is  coming  up  the  Bay " 

And  with  a  whoop  Matthew  would  be  out  of  the 
house  flourishing  his  tasseled  cap,  tearing  up  and 
down  the  street  like  a  wild  Indian. 

"My  daddy  is  home,  hooray!    My  daddy  is  home 

And  when  the  Captain's  gig  came  up  to  the  Bat- 
tery to  put  Gamaliel  ashore,  Matthew  would  be  there 
squirming  around  in  the  crowd,  dancing  about  at 
the  water's  edge  pulling  at  his  mother's  hand,  the 
proudest,  happiest  boy  in  New  York  town. 

"I  see  him,  Mother — that's  my  daddy,  Captain 
Parsons — that's  his  ship  out  there,  the  Felicity  Belle, 
she's  the  sweetest  ship  afloat — isn't  she,  Mother?" 

"Hush,  Matthew — try  and  behave  in  a  more 
seemly  manner,  do — "  But  there  was  the  gig,  and  it 
was  all  that  she  could  do  to  prevent  him  from  jump- 
ing right  into  the  water ! 

30 


GIFTS  FROM  THE  SEA 

"Hello  Daddy — here  we  are — hello  Daddy!" 

"Ahoy,  you  little  powder  monkey!"  his  father 
would  always  laugh  up  at  him,  even  before  he 
stepped  out  of  the  boat.  "And  who  may  you  be? 
You're  not  the  little  boy  I  left  behind !" 

"Yes  I  am,  Daddy " 

"Pickle  me,  how  the  lads  grow  ashore !  Now  I've 
got  a  set  of  Chinese  puzzles  in  my  pocket  for  a  little 
boy  called  Matthew  Parsons — I'd  admire  to  see 
him " 

"That's  me,  Daddy!" 

And  then  of  course  there  would  be  no  mention  of 
official  bed  times,  for  the  first  few  evenings  anyway. 
Or  rather  mention  oft  repeated  on  the  part  of 
Mother,  but  boldly  ignored  by  Matthew,  safe  within 
the  fortress  of  Gamaliel's  arm,  embarked  upon  the 
recital  of  some  breathless,  and  possibly  none  too 
veracious,  adventure. 

"And  what  did  you  do  then,  Daddy?" 

"Pickle  me,  I  took  that  old  sea  serpent  by  the  tail, 
and  I  said  to  him  Take  in  your  slack,  my  prancing 
bucko " 

"Hush,  Gamaliel!"  his  wife  would  plead.  "Do 
not  teach  the  lad  such  expressions." 

"I  calculate  he  knows  them  already,"  Gamaliel 
31 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

laughed  at  her.    "He  has  a  sailor's  eye,  and  I  doubt 
not  a  sailor's  tongue  as  well " 

"Go  on,  Daddy — what  did  the  old  sea  serpent 
say "     . 

And  so  it  was  that  little  by  little  Matthew  learned 
to  know  of  many  things  besides  sea  serpents  during 
those  enchanting  evenings  on  his  father's  knee.  Of 
a  place  called  Foo  Chow,  and  a  smiling  Chinaman 
who  lived  there  and  sent  him  presents  after  every 
voyage,  beautiful  presents  as  splendid  as  those  from 
Mister  Houqua,  the  merchant  in  Canton. 

".  .  .  and  he  wears  a  long  pigtail  down  his 
back.    .    .    ." 

"Oh,  Daddy  r 

And  of  a  Dutch  gentleman  who  was  a  Captain 
from  Batavia,  and  very  fat,  so  that  he  shook  like  a 
plate  of  jelly  when  he  laughed.  And  of  a  pagodaed 
castle  set  in  the  midst  of  fairy  gardens  in  mysterious 
Yeddo,  and  a  spice  river,  too,  where  the  air  was 
always  humming  with  the  sound  of  gongs,  and  where 
sometimes  junks  were  stranded.  .  .  . 

All  sorts  of  marvelous  tales  gleaned  from  the  end- 
less store  of  his  father's  chuckling  recollections,  until 
it  seemed  as  though  there  could  not  possibly  be  any 
more  to  tell.    And  yet  in  later  years  when  Matthew 

32 


GIFTS  FROM  THE  SEA 

came  gathering  up  the  threads  of  his  father's  ad- 
ventures, in  the  days  of  the  quest  for  the  golden 
haired  girl,  he  was  to  find  that  there  were  indeed 
many  tales  which  had  not  been  told. 


33 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  FEARLESS  SHIPS 

1 

/GAMALIEL  PARSONS  of  course  had  spent 
^*  almost  his  entire  life  around  shipyards  and  in 
ships,  and  his  childhood  years  had  been  filled  with 
the  touch,  and  the  smell,  and  the  sound  of  things 
that  had  to  do  with  the  sea.  His  toys  were  the  tools 
with  which  hulls  and  riggings  were  fashioned,  his 
chosen  heroes  the  men  who  sailed  blue  waters,  in 
saucy  Yankee  vessels  whose  only  regret  was  that  the 
Seas  were  limited  to  Seven. 

"Patagonia?  Cochin  China?  Zanzibar?  Great 
howling  gales  of  Heaven — we've  been  there.    .    .    ." 

Born  in  1797,  he  had  been  allowed  to  run  wild  in 
Mr.  Samuel  Ackley's  yard  at  the  foot  of  Pelham 
Street,  on  the  East  River,  where  his  father  worked 
as  a  ship  builder,  and  when  he  was  only  six  years  old 
he  had  been  taken  to  see  the  launching  of  Mr.  John 

34 


THE  FEARLESS  SHIPS 

Jacob  Astor's  Beaver  from  the  new  Eckford  yard 
at  Clinton  Street. 

"A  beaver  for  work  you  shall  be,  and  Beaver  I 
name  you.  .  .  ."  and  a  breaking  of  perfectly  good 
rum  jars  over  her  bows. 

The  shaping  of  sterns,  the  stepping  of  masts,  the 
intricacies  of  knight  heads,  aprons  and  breast  hooks 
were  all  matters  of  absorbing  interest  to  Gamaliel, 
and  he  spent  hours  playing  with  ends  of  rope, — 
fashioning  sheepshanks  and  catspaws,  stopper  knots, 
spritsail  sheets  and  grommets. 

".  .  .let  the  strands  follow  their  own  parts 
around,  walling  first,  then  crowning — that's  it,  don't 
forget  the  whipping  .  .  ."  Gamaliel  knew  exactly 
what  was  meant  by  all  that. 

Hours,  too,  he  spent  listening  to  the  spinning  of 
yarns  by  men  who  had  been  to  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
and  expected  to  go  there  again. 

".   .    .   to  New  York  town  I'll  bid  adieu, 
To  my  lovely  Kate  and  pretty  Sue, 
Goodbye,  fare  ye  well, 

Our  anchor's  weighed  and  our  sails  unfurled, 

And  we're  bound  to  plow  the  watery  world, 

And  say  we're  outward  bound, 

Hurrah,  we're  outward  bound.     .     .     ." 

35 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

-  Men  who  had  been  to  China  for  opium  and  silk, 
to  Sumatra  for  pepper,  up  and  down  and  around 
Africa  after  gum,  and  palm  oil,  and  ivory;  back 
from  Arabia  with  coffee  and  from  South  America 
with  hides ;  out  to  Malaysia  for  nutmegs  and  spices, 
and  to  mysterious  Japan  to  load  copper,  and  bronze, 
and  gold,  porcelains  and  lustrous  woods. 

Zanzibar,  Batavia,  Amoy,  Valparaiso,  Canton, 
Bencoelen,  Nagasaki  ...  The  Cape  of  Good 
Hope,  Anjer  Point,  Diamond  Head    ... 

Names  such  as  these  they  were  that  rang  in  his 
ears  with  a  booming  of  temple  bells,  and  stirred  his 
senses  with  their  hint  of  incense  bearing  breezes. 


Throughout  those  years  his  most  cherished  picture 
books  were  the  tales  which  these  sailormen  of  his 
brought  back  with  them  from  the  pagodaed  hori- 
zons, scented  with  spices,  clinking  with  precious 
stones,  tanned  by  winds  with  strange,  disturbing 
names — monsoons,  chinooks,  pamperos,  simooms, 
harmattans. 

"Great  howling  gales  of  Heaven    .    .    ." 
Winds  encountered  on  voyages  in  such  ships  as 
those  of  Mr.  Elias  Derby  with  his  fleet  of  forty,  who 

36 


THE  FEARLESS  SHIPS 

as  early  as  1784  had  nosed  his  way  into  St.  Peters- 
burg, and  five  years  later  had  flown  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  for  the  first  time  in  the  ports  of  Bombay 
and  Calcutta.  And  those  of  Mr.  Crowninshield 
and  Mr.  Peabody,  and  Mr.  William  Gray,  owner  of 
thirty-six  vessels  sailing  out  of  Salem. 

Voyages  such  as  that  of  the  Columbia  out  of 
Boston,  around  the  Horn  to  the  Northwest  coast  of 
North  America  and  thence  to  China,  and  home 
around  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  A  little  adventurer 
of  two  hundred  and  thirteen  tons,  the  first  to  carry 
the  American  flag  around  the  globe.  And  those  of 
Mr.  Girard's  ships  from  Philadelphia  to  the  Orient, 
Mr.  Girard  who  had  once  been  a  cabin  boy.  And 
that  first  one  from  New  York  straight  to  Canton  in 
1785,  seven  men  and  two  boys  in  the  eighty  ton 
sloop  Enterprise. 

Voyages  which  had  started,  some  of  them,  from 
Mr.  Ackley's  own  shipyard,  like  that  of  the  Man- 
hattan for  China  and  the  East  Indies  in  1796.  A 
giant  of  some  six  hundred  tons,  requiring  all  of  the 
blue  water  sailormen  that  could  be  gathered  to- 
gether along  the  waterfront  to  handle  her. 

Lonely,  distant  voyages  to  unknown  shores,  filled 

with  the  longing  for  patiently  expectant  homes 

37 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

And  it's  hame,  dearie,  hame,  oh  it's  hame  I  want 

to  be, 
My  topsails  are  hoisted,  and  I  must  out  to  sea, 
For  the  oak,  and  the  ash,  and  the  bonny  birchen 

tree, 
They're  all  a  growing  green  in  the  North  Coun- 

tree.    .    .    ." 


Slow,  anxious  home  comings,  filled  with  the  regret 
of  unfinished  romances 


"The  boatmen  shout,  'tis  time  to  part, 
No  longer  can  we  stay, 
'Twas  then  Maimunah  taught  my  heart 
How  much  a  glance  can  say. 
Through  tear  dimmed  eyes  beamed  looks  of  love, 
Her  arms  she  round  me  flung, 
As  clings  the  breeze  on  sighing  grove, 
Upon  my  breast  she  hung.   ..." 


And  such  tales  they  were  that  came  floating  back- 
to  Gamaliel  from  the  distant  horizons,  on  the  tongues 
of  men  who  had  seen  piracy,  and  signed  on  in  their 
thousands  in  the  coastwise  taverns  to  man  the  pri- 
vateers of  the  Revolution. 

38 


THE  FEARLESS  SHIPS 

Tales  of  uncharted  oceans  and  unexpected  coast 
lines,  fabulous  cargoes  drawn  from  unsuspected 
rivers — the  days  of  Tyre,  and  Genoa,  and  Venice 
returned  again  to  gild  the  figureheads  of  fearless 
Yankee  ships. 

'  'Adventures, "  so  they  called  the  shares  owned  by 
the  Masters  and  Mates  in  the  profits  of  these  ships, 
and  to  each  one  of  them  came  his  full  share  of  ad- 
venture ! 

To  that  twenty-three  year  old  Viking,  Master 
Mariner  Richard  Cleveland,  for  instance,  who  in 
1797  had  sailed  from  Salem  in  his  own  ship  bound 
for  Arabia.  In  Havre  the  possibilities  of  another 
venture  had  attracted  him,  and  he  was  off  for  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope,  three  months  at  sea  in  the 
twenty-three-ton  Caroline,  with  a  crew  of  two  men, 
two  boys,  and  a  cook. 

"Like  a  birthday  cake,"  they  used  to  tell  Gamaliel. 
"A  ton  for  very  year !" 

Having  disposed  of  his  boat  he  journeyed  to  Ba- 
tavia  and  Canton,  whence  he  set  sail  in  a  cutter  for 
the  Northwest  shore  of  North  America.  A  venture 
involving  a  mutiny  in  the  China  Sea,  and  two  months 
of  constant  fighting  with  the  Indians  of  Norfolk 
Sound,  to  say  nothing  of  the  treacherous  hostility 

39 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

of  the  Oregon  coast,  before  he  returned  to  China 
with  his  cargo  of  furs. 

"And  then  where  did  Captain  Cleveland  go?" 

"Then?    Oh,  he  went  to  Calcutta.     .     .    ." 

To  Calcutta,  yes,  and  a  twenty-five-ton  boat  to 
Mauritius,  and  a  cargo  of  coffee  to  Copenhagen. 
And  then  in  Hamburg  he  must  needs  purchase  the 
Leila  Byrd  and  sail  for  Valparaiso,  and  on  to  Mexico 
and  California,  fighting  his  way  in  and  out  of 
closed  Spanish  ports,  then  to  Norfolk  Sound  again 
for  another  load  of  furs  for  Canton ! 

"My  eye  and  Betty  Martin!  And  didn't  he 
ever  come  home  again  V*  Gamaliel  asked  once. 

Oh,  yes.  He  was  thirty  years  old  when  he  re- 
turned to  Salem,  with  a  fortune  of  over  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars,  having  sailed  twice  around  the  globe 
in  a  voyage  of  seven  years. 

Adventure  on  the  rolling  seas,  along  the  beaches 
of  three  continents,  in  the  lagoons  of  tropical 
islands,  among  pirates,  and  merchants,  and  kings, 
yellow  and  brown  and  black. 

Adventure  that  took  its  toll,  also,  in  wreckage, 
and  death,  and  disaster,  for  there  was  ever  a  price  to 
be  paid  for  such  Odysseys,  and  the  Golden  Fleece 
called  for  its  sacrifice. 

40 


THE  FEARLESS  SHIPS 

".  .  .  lost  overboard,  he  was,  off  the  Horn — and 
his  brother  murdered  by  Chinese  pirates  on  the  next 
voyage  in  the  Archipelago " 

'The  mate,  he  died  of  the  smallpox  in  Whampoa 
— One  Eyed  Tom  ?  Oh,  him,  he  was  sold  as  a  slave 
in  Algiers." 

".  .  .  drowned  off  the  coast  of  Japan  as  I  re- 
member, and  Sam,  he  was  killed  in  a  skirmish  with 
natives  down  in  Borneo.    .    .    ." 

Epitaphs  such  as  these  for  the  Argonauts  of 
Gamaliel's  childhood  days.  But  of  course  with  him 
the  epitaphs  went  in  at  one  ear  and  out  again  at  the 
other,  while  the  tales  remained,  and  the  glamour  of 
their  setting,  and  the  music  of  their  songs. 

That  peculiarly  enchanting  one,  for  instance,  con- 
cerning the  Golden  Vanitee — 

".    .    .  then  up  spake  a  sailor,  who'd  just  returned 

from  sea, 
Oh,  I  was  aboard  of  the  Golden  Vanitee 
When  she  was  held  in  chase  by  a  Spanish  piratee, 
And  we  sank  her  in  the  Lowlands  low. 
Lowlands,  Lowlands, 
We  sank  her  in  the  Lowlands  low. 
For  we  had  aboard  us  a  little  cabin  boy, 
Who  said  What  will  you  give  me  if  that  ship  I 
do  destroy? 

41 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

The  Captain  said  I'll  give  my  child,  she  is  my  pride 
and  joy, 

If  you  sink  her  in  the  Lowlands  low. 

The  boy  took  an  auger  and  plunged  into  the  tide, 

And  bravely  swam  until  he  reached  the  rascal  pi- 
rate's side, 

He  climbed  aboard  and  went  below,  by  none  was  he 
espied, 

And  he  sank  her  in  the  Lowlands  low. 

For  he  took  his  auger  and  let  the  water  through, 

And  sank  the  Spanish  pirate  craft  and  all  her  rascal 
crew, 

He  swam  back  to  the  Vanitee,  'twas  all  that  he  could 
do, 

He  was  sinking  in  the  Lowlands  low. 
Lowlands,  Lowlands, 
He  was  sinking  in  the  Lowlands  low.    .    .    ." 

In  Gamaliel's  estimation  this  heroic  cabin  boy 
ranked  well  up  beside  General  Washington,  and  per- 
haps even  Captain  Richard  Cleveland,  although  this 
was  debatable,  and  to  be  such  a  cabin  boy  appeared 
to  him  as  the  summit  of  all  earthly,  and  watery  am- 
bition. 


And  when  the   swiftly   searching  rovers   began 
putting  out  from  Baltimore,  and  from  Norfolk,  and 

42 


THE  FEARLESS  SHIPS 

Charleston,  and  Savannah,  to  write  the  glorious  ad- 
venture of  1812  into  the  annals  of  Yankee  shipping, 
Gamaliel  ran  away  to  sea  and  became  such  a  cabin 
boy  or  perhaps  even  more  of  one,  and  sailed  through 
four  years  of  romance  as  finely  spun  as  any  of  his 
sailormen's  tales. 

"Honored  Sir,"  as  he  wrote  his  father 


"I  take  this  opportunity  to  tell  you  that  I  have  run 
away  to  sea  in  a  saucy  raider.  More  I  have  not  time 
to  say  as  the  Commander  is  at  this  very  moment  being 
piped  up  the  side,  and  I  do  suspect  the  next  tide  will 
not  find  us  here. 

"Your  loving,  and  dutiful  son, 

"Gamaliel  Parsons." 


Not  that  he  had  very  far  to  run — out  to  the  end 
of  the  wharf  in  Mr.  Ackley's  yard  and  aboard  of  a 
schooner  bound  for  Baltimore,  and  it  is  doubtful 
whether  his  father  would  have  tried  to  stop  him. 
But  it  served  Gamaliel's  romantic  nature  to  imagine 
that  he  had  run  away,  along  with  the  best  of  his 
blue  water  sailor  heroes. 

He  was  fifteen  years  old,  and  big  and  strong  for 
his  age,  and  they  shipped  him  aboard  the  Chaser  in 

43 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Baltimore,  as  boy,  and  powder  monkey,  and  what 
not. 

The  most  beautiful  vessel  ever  turned  out  of  Bal- 
timore was  the  Chaser,  a  miraculously  fast  privateer 
schooner,  carrying  sixteen  long  twelve  pounders, 
and  a  hundred  or  more  officers,  sailors  and  marines. 
A  thin  black  hull  under  towering  masts  and  billow- 
ing snow  white  canvas. 

One  among  some  five  hundred  of  her  sisters  who 
went  forth  to  dance  like  tantalizing  phantoms,  in 
and  out  of  the  British  Channel  and  the  Irish  Sea. 
under  the  noses  and  around  the  sterns  of  the  lumber- 
ing great  ships  of  the  line. 

'That  infernal  Yankee  fly  by  night !"  her  pursuers 
called  her. 

That  was  after  she  had  taken  eighteen  merchant- 
men, and  sent  a  captured  boat  ashore  with  a  docu- 
ment, which  she  begged  leave  to  have  posted  in 
Lloyd's  Coffee  House,  setting  forth  that 

"The  American  Letter  of  Marque  Schooner  Chaser 
out  of  Baltimore,  and  more  recently  in  and  out  of 
every  roadstead  in  His  Britannic  Majesty's  inland 
waters,  hereby  gives  notice  to  all  whom  it  may  concern 
that  she  will  henceforth  put  into  effect  a  blockade  of 
said  waters,  and  of  the  coasts  of  the  United  Kingdom 
of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland." 

44 


THE  FEARLESS  SHIPS 

Whereupon  she  sailed  along  the  coast  of  Ireland, 
flying  at  her  masthead  the  impudent  signal  "Catch 
me  if  you  can." 

They  split  their  topgallant  sails  and  royals  chasing 
after  her,  those  British  ships  of  the  line,  and  damned 
her  from  one  shoal  water  to  the  next,  but,  like  sports- 
men and  sailors,  they  toasted  her  ruefully  in  every 
cabin. 

"To  the  unmentionable  Chaser — and  when  we 
catch  her  we'll  burn  her.  And  to  her  gallant  Captain 
— pickle  his  eyes  in  brine — and  long  may  he  sail 

"Back,  back,  back  to  Baltimore, 
Where  he  won't  trouble  us  any  more! 
We  will  catch  his  fly  by  night, 
We  will  put  her  crew  to  flight, 
But  her  gallant  Captain,  back, 
We'll  send  him  back 
To  Baltimore!" 

Needless  to  say  Gamaliel  had  the  time  of  his  ro- 
mantic life,  helping  to  enforce  the  Chaser's  "block- 
ade" with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  his  lusty  young 
limbs,  and  with  many  a  laugh  at  an  ill  fated  wallow- 
ing merchantman. 

"Prize  crew,  ready  to  go  aboard    .    .    ." 
45 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

And  a  strenuous  time  of  it  too,  for  the  Chaser 
was  of  the  kind  that  always  preferred  a  gentlemanly 
fight  against  whatever  odds,  just  for  the  fun  of  it 
and  the  devil  of  it,  to  the  more  sordid  attractions 
of  less  well  defended  booty. 

Like  that  night  in  Fayal  Roads. 

It  was  in  1814,  when  the  Chaser — as  yet  uncap- 
tured  and  unburned,  and  more  damned  than  ever — 
had  put  in  to  the  Azores  for  water  and  much  needed 
supplies. 

"A  strange  sail!"  shouted  the  lookout.  "One, 
two,  three  sails  ho !" 

Strange  sails  indeed,  one,  two,  three  of  them. 
The  seventy- four-gun  ship  Thunderer,  no  less,  the 
thirty-eight-gun  frigate  Hornet,  the  war  brig  Ante- 
lope— an  overpowering  squadron,  and  the  Chaser 
trapped  in  Fayal  Roads. 

"To  quarters,  to  quarters!"  rang  the  cry,  and 
Gamaliel  tightened  his  belt  and  rolled  up  his  breeches 
above  his  bare  knees.  It  would  be  a  rare  battle  there, 
under  the  moon,  and  worthy  to  be  the  Chaser's  last 
fight  if  such  it  proved  to  be,  and  it  seemed  as  though 
it  could  not  possibly  be  otherwise. 

The  squadron  closed  in,  and  across  the  quiet 
waters  of  Fayal  Roads  came  the  attacking  flotilla, 

46 


THE  FEARLESS  SHIPS 

four  hundred  men  in  twelve  boats,  to  "take  the 
Chaser  alive." 

"Ready  to  repel  boarders!"  roared  the  Chaser's 
commander,  who  had  his  own  ideas  about  how  these 
affairs  should  be  conducted.  "Over  the  side,  every 
mother's  son    .    .    ." 

Gamaliel  was  among  the  first  to  go,  laughing  at 
the  words  of  a  song  which  was  running  persistently 
through  his  head 

"The  boy  took  an  auger  and  plunged  into  the 
tide    .    .    r 

Over  the  side  they  dropped  into  the  boats,  with 
flashing  cutlasses  in  each  hand,  shouting,  slashing, 
lunging  maniacs,  screaming  devils  let  loose  in  those 
crowded  boat  loads. 

It  was  all  over  very  quickly.  Many  of  the  boats 
drifted  away  with  only  one  or  two  left  alive,  some 
of  them  floated  ashore  filled  with  dead  bodies. 
When  the  Chaser's  men  had  cleaned  out  one  boat 
they  leaped  into  the  water  to  swim  to  the  next.  One 
hundred  and  twenty  men  killed,  one  hundred  and 
thirty  wounded,  was  the  Thunderer's  report  to  the 
Admiralty.  The  Chaser  had  lost  two  dead  and 
seven  wounded ! 

And  then  they  let  her  go!  It  was  all  so  unex- 
47 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

pected,  possibly  they  thought  that  she  deserved  it. 
At  all  events  the  Chaser  gathered  in  her  dripping 
crew  and  sailed  straight  out  through  the  squadron. 
"Back,  back,  back  to  Baltimore  .  .  ." 
And  as  she  passed  them  the  Chaser  dipped  her 
colors,  and  a  sound  of  cheering  came  floating  across 
Fayal  Roads,  for  they  fought  each  other  like  gentle- 
men in  those  days. 


48 


CHAPTER  III 
FIREWORKS  AND  FELICITY 

1 

T^HERE  was  no  prouder  lad  in  all  the  length  of 
A  State  Street,  or  under  the  trees  of  the  Battery 
Park,  than  Gamaliel  returned  from  the  wars  in  all  the 
glory  of  his  glittering  uniform,  for  they  had  made 
him  an  officer  aboard  the  Chaser.  And  no  hand- 
somer, in  his  spotless  high  collar  and  black  neck 
cloth,  under  the  snug  fitting  gold  braided  jacket. 

He  witnessed  the  torchlight  processions,  and 
joined  the  singing  throngs  in  Broadway,  celebrating 
the  signing  of  peace,  and  some  of  his  father's 
friends  gave  him  a  banquet  at  the  City  Hotel,  under 
the  personal  supervision  of  Mr.  Gibson,  the  landlord. 

".    .    .in  the  same  room,  Sir,  where  three  years 
ago  we  had  the  honor  of  banquetting  Captain  De- 
catur and  Captain  Hull.    The  same  dishes,  Sir,  and 
the  same  wines    .    .    ." 
4  49 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Gamaliel  was  very  much  embarrassed  at  the  ban- 
quet, and  enjoyed  himself  a  great  deal  more  a  few 
weeks  later  at  the  grand  ball  in  Washington  Hall, 
where  "amid  scenes  of  unparalleled  splendor,  there 
passed  before  the  eye  such  a  galaxy  of  feminine 
loveliness,  elegance,  beauty  and  fashion  as  had  never 
before  been  surpassed  in  the  City  of  New  York," 
as  the  newspapers  described  it. 

Gamaliel,  certainly,  had  never  imagined  anything 
to  equal  it ! 

They  had  taken  Mr.  Peter  Mclntyre's  ball  room, 
a  sumptuous  apartment  some  eighty  feet  in  length, 
and  transformed  it  into  a  Temple  of  Concord  formed 
by  pillars  festooned  with  garlands  of  laurel.  From 
the  central  canopy  was  suspended  a  mechanical 
golden  sun,  whose  rapid  revolutions  reflected  the 
brilliance  of  several  hundred  lights  and  chande- 
liers. 

"My  eye  and  Betty  Martin!"  Gamaliel  gasped. 

Over  at  one  side  they  had  constructed  a  platform, 
decked  with  flags  and  orange  trees,  which  was  en- 
titled the  Bower  of  Peace.  Gamaliel  had  to  read  all 
about  it  again  in  the  New  York  Evening  Post  in 
order  to  realize  the  splendors  which  he  had  wit- 
nessed  

50 


FIREWORKS  AND  FELICITY 

".  .  .  the  supper  tables  at  which  all  the  ladies  were 
accommodated  with  seats  at  one  time,  though  in  two 
different  apartments,  were  arranged  and  decorated  in 
the  most  brilliant  style;  being  lighted  from  above  by 
illuminated  arches  entwined  with  flowers  and  supported 
by  grouped  columns  from  the  center  of  the  tables,  and 
forming  a  line  of  arches  from  one  extremity  to  the 
other.  In  short,  the  whole  scene  was  one  of  the  most 
splendid  ever  exhibited  in  this  city    .    .    ." 

And  of  course  every  young  lady  in  town  blushed 
discreetly  under  her  bonnet  when  he  sauntered  into 
Contoit's,  or  the  New  York  Garden  as  it  was  now 
called,  or  into  Vauxhall,  of  an  evening. 

A  very  agreeable  place,  this  Contoit's,  it  seemed  to 
Gamaliel  after  his  years  at  sea,  with  its  trees  and  its 
green  painted  whitewashed  boxes,  where  colored 
waiters  in  white  coats  served  vanilla  ice  cream,  and 
lemonade,  and  cake.  To  say  nothing  of  cognac! 
Only  for  that  you  had  to  be  "in  the  know,"  because 
of  course  the  establishment  was  strictly  temperance, 
and  eminently  proper,  a  favorite  resort  for  ladies. 

And  of  all  these  young  ladies  who  blushed  so 
discreetly,  there  was  probably  none  who  did  so  more 
rosily  than  Miss  Felicity  Moore  of  the  twinkling 
brown  eyes,  and  by  all  odds  the  belle  of  the  town  in 
that  day. 

51 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

She  was  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Benjamin  Moore, 
who  was  perhaps  the  leading  merchant  and  ship 
owner  in  New  York,  and  whose  house  flag  with  the 
red,  white  and  blue  horizontal  stripes  had  flown  in 
every  port  in  the  world. 

"If  it's  Moore  it's  sure  .  .  ."  as  they  said  of 
him. 

They  met  one  evening,  Gamaliel  and  Felicity,  in 
the  Vauxhall  Garden,  amid  the  grass  plots  and  gravel 
walks  tastefully  decorated  with  busts,  in  an  arbor 
in  front  of  the  equestrian  statue  of  General  Wash- 
ington, during  an  exhibition  of  tight-rope  walking 
which  Gamaliel  for  his  part  certainly,  was  in  no 
position  to  appreciate,  since  his  whole  attention  had 
been  concentrated  on  the  lady  before  whom  he  now 
found  himself  standing. 

"I  beg  leave  to  present  Mr.  Parsons,  late  of  the 
American  privateer  Chaser.  .  .  ." 

"La,  Mr.  Parsons!"  exclaimed  Felicity,  and  they 
sat  in  a  stall  and  consumed  refreshments  under  the 
lamps  suspended  from  the  branches,  and  made  a 
pretense  of  listening  to  the  orchestra  performing 
among  the  trees. 

"You  must  find  it  very  dull  indeed  here,"  she 
surmised  demurely,  "after  your  exploits  in  Fayal 

52 


FIREWORKS  AND  FELICITY 

Roads.    What  dangers  you  have  encountered,  to  be 
sure!" 

"Unless  my  eyes  deceive  me,  and  my  heart  play 
me  false,  I  am  in  greater  danger  now,  than  ever  in 
Fayal  Roads,  Miss  Moore!"  Gamaliel  replied,  bow- 
ing low  before  her. 

"Does  your  courage  fail  you  now,  Mr.  Parsons? 
You  who  have  faced  the  broadsides  of  pursuing  ships 
of  the  line?" 

"Their  fire  was  never  so  deadly,  Miss  Moore,  as 
one  stray  shot  from  the  battery  of  your  eyes!" 
Gamaliel  assured  her. 

"La,  Mr.  Parsons !  Do  you  strike  your  colors  so 
speedily  then  ?" 

"If  you  will  but  take  me  for  a  prize,  Miss  Moore, 
and  give  me  leave  to  hoist  your  own  colors  at  my 
masthead  .  .  ."  smiled  Gamaliel. 

"You  crowd  on  sail,  Mr.  Parsons,  indeed  you  do!" 
objected  Felicity.  "Do  you  not  fear  that  you  will 
carry  away  something  up  aloft?" 

"I  am  already  utterly  carried  away !"  said  Gama- 
liel, and  after  that  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  for 
them  to  do  but  watch  the  magician  for  a  while, 
pulling  the  most  incongruous  objects  from  his  hat 
with  an  expression  of  profound  boredom. 

53 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Indeed,  it  is  truly  wonderful  magic,"  remarked 
Felicity  at  the  end  of  the  turn.  "He  has  cast  a 
spell  over  us  all." 

"A  more  wonderful  magic  than  his  has  cast  its 
spell  over  me,"  Gamaliel  replied.  "He  has  but  drawn 
things  from  a  hat  which  no  doubt  he  had  already 
prudently  placed  there,  but  I  have  found  in  my  heart 
what  I  had  not  known  before,  and  which  another 
has  placed  there." 

"I  can  not  imagine  what  you  mean,  Mr.  Parsons !" 
said  Felicity,  and  then  they  had  to  hush  again  to 
listen  to  a  song,  one  of  the  best  known  songs  of  that 
season 

"Backside  of  Albany,  'tan  Lake  Champlain, 
One  little  pond,  half  full  a  water, 
Plattsburg  dere  too,  close  upon  de  main, 
Town  small,  he  grow  bigger  do,  hereafter. 

On  Lake  Champlain 

Uncle  Sam  set  he  boat, 

And  Massa  Macdonough  he  sail  'em — 

While  Gin'ral  M'Comb 

Make  Plattsburg  he  home, 

Wid    he    army,     whose    courage    nebber     fail 
em.    .    .    . 

But  when  the  fireworks  began  their  noisy  and  dis- 
concerting explosions  her  hand  fluttered  invitingly 

54 


FIREWORKS  AND  FELICITY 

close  to  his,  and  her  slender  fingers  were  not  unre- 
sponsive to  the  gentle  squeeze  with  which  he  ventured 
to  salute  them. 

"Perhaps  if  you  are  minded  to  pursue  your  career 
upon  the  sea,  Mr.  Parsons,  you  will  have  occasion  to 
call  upon  my  father,"  she  said  to  him  when  he  was 
taking  his  leave  a  little  later. 

"I  had  hoped  to  wait  upon  him  in  his  counting 
room/'  Gamaliel  admitted — a  statement  which  may 
or  may  not  have  meant  more  than  it  seemed  to  on 
the  surface. 

"My  father  is  often  very  much  occupied  there," 
Felicity  suggested,  while  her  twinkling  eyes  pre- 
tended to  seek  shelter  behind  the  curtain  of  their 
sweeping  lashes.  "It  would  be  better  perhaps  if  you 
called  upon  him  at  his  home.  I  am  sure  you  will  be 
very  welcome  there." 

"If  I  might  only  dare  to  believe  so!"  Gama- 
liel exclaimed,  and  there  was  something  in  his 
manner  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  his  chief 
concern  was  not  over  the  quality  of  her  father's 
welcome. 

"La,  Mr.  Parsons!"  Felicity  laughed  at  him. 
"Would  you  shorten  sail  now  ?  A  good  sailor  makes 
the  most  of  favoring  winds    .    .    ."  and  she  left  him, 

55 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

trying  to  choose  among  a  number  of  things  which 
occurred  to  him  to  say  to  her. 

Decidedly,  the  batteries  of  Felicity's  dancing  eyes 
had  raked  him  from  bowsprit  to  rudder  post,  tom- 
pions  and  all!  And  Miss  Felicity  Moore  herself 
came  away  from  that  first  encounter  with  the  pinkest 
of  cheeks,  and  a  catch  in  her  voice  which  she  found  it 
difficult  to  conceal  from  her  father  as  she  questioned 
him*  at  great  length  concerning  the  doings  of  the 
American  privateer  Chaser. 

"I  exchanged  a  few  brief  nothings  with  Mr.  Ga- 
maliel Parsons  at  the  Garden    .    .    ."  she  admitted. 

As  for  Gamaliel  he  walked  home  in  a  sort  of 
golden  trance,  in  the  midst  of  which  he  stopped  once 
or  twice  to  laugh  very  merrily,  at  the  words  of  a 
song  which  had  come  to  him  suddenly,  as  on  that 
night  in  Fayal  Roads 

"The  Captain  said  I'll  give  my  child,  she  is  my 
pride  and  joy    .    .    ." 


Of  course,  Gamaliel  had  never  given  up  the  hope 
that  some  day  he  would  sail  blue  water,  and  run  a 
ship  into  some  glistening  harbor  of  China  or  the 
Indies,  and  now  his  wish  was  to  come  true.    Officers 

56 


FIREWORKS  AND  FELICITY 

and  sailors  of  home  coming  privateers  were  in  great 
demand  for  the  long  distance  merchantmen  of  the 
port,  and  Gamaliel  sailed  almost  at  once  for  the 
Orient,  as  first  mate. 

In  one  of  Mr.  Benjamin  Moore's  ships. 

"Yes,  I  have  heard  a  great  deal  about  you  lately," 
said  that  gentleman.  "Of  course  I  have  known  your 
father  for  a  long  time.  My  daughter  also  has  spoken 
of  you." 

"Indeed,  Sir    .    .    ." 

"Yes.  She  tells  me  that  you  have  quite  a  reputa- 
tion for  crowding  on  sail !" 

"Oh!"  said  Gamaliel.  "So  long  as  nothing  is 
carried  away  up  aloft,  Sir,  the  fault  is  a  good  one. 
We  found  it  served  us  well  in  the  Chaser,  a  remark- 
ably staunch  ship,  Sir    .    .    ." 

"My  ships  are  the  finest  vessels  afloat!"  boomed 
Mr.  Benjamin  Moore.  "Take  in  your  slack  about 
other  ships !" 

"I  do  not  doubt  they  will  stand  up  under  my  sail 
making,"  Gamaliel  smiled. 

"Eh?  What's  that?  Well,  upon  my  soul — yes, 
well,  smart's  the  word,  my  boy !" 

"Aye,  aye,  Sir    .    .    ." 

It  was  on  that  first  voyage  that  Gamaliel  made 
57 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

the  acquaintance  of  the  inscrutable  Ah  Fung,  a  si- 
lently moving,  silk  robed,  Celestial  gentleman, 
shrewd  merchant  and  patron  of  the  arts,  a  lover  of 
peacocks  and  porcelain,  and  still  of  an  age  to  breathe 
deeply  at  the  thought  of  adventure.  A  North 
Chinaman,  sturdy  and  tall,  speaking  his  Mandarin 
Chinese  with  a  scholar's  pride,  who  through  circum- 
stances of  trade  had  settled  in  Foo  Chow. 

".  .  .  deh  meng  chang  yuen  buh  chi  shi  wei  o 
hsin  so  yuen — I  will  play  to  pleserve  your  friend- 
ship!"  Ah  Fung  said  to  Gamaliel  at  parting. 

"All  right,  Ah  Fung,  look  for  you  next  voyage," 
Gamaliel  replied.    "Hsie  hsie  ni — thank  you !" 

It  was  in  Foo  Chow  also,  in  Ah  Fung's  hong  a:> 
a  matter  of  fact,  that  Gamaliel  met  Mijnheer  Jan 
Pieterszoon  van  den  Bosch,  the  fat  little  Captain  of 
the  Oost  Indie,  the  Dutch  East  Indiaman  from 
Batavia. 

"Goede  Kernel  I3 *  the  latter  exclaimed  to  Ah  Fung, 
sitting  where  the  wind  from  three  punkahs  fanned 
his  perspiring  forehead.  "But  a  child  he  is,  a  jongen 
scarcely  hatched,  and  already  he  speak  of  becoming 
a  bruidegom  and  a  kapitein — he  will  marry  and  com- 
mand a  ship !    Is  het  mogelijk — can  it  be  true  ?" 

Gamaliel  of  course  was  only  eighteen. 
58 


FIREWORKS  AND  FELICITY 

"In  Amelica,  it  is  childlen  who  seek  and  find," 
murmured  Ah  Fung. 

"Pas  op,  Mijnheer!"  The  Dutchman  laughed, 
shaking  all  over  like  a  plate  of  jelly.  "Take  care. 
In  bahasa  Malay  u,  in  the  tongue  of  Malaya,  we  say 
"A  house  where  the  wife  rules  is  as  a  boat  steered 
from  the  bow !" 

"My  house  and  my  ship  will  be  two  very  different 
things !"  smiled  Gamaliel 

"Ni  kan,"  said  Ah  Fung.  "See,  he  has  wis- 
dom, although  his  face  is  smooth  all  same  clystal 
globe!" 

And  they  both  smiled  back  at  the  ridiculously 
handsome  youth  with  the  frank  eyes  and  the  laugh- 
ing speech,  who  had  come  to  them  across  the  oceans. 


When  he  returned  to  New  York  they  met  again, 
Gamaliel  and  Felicity,  in  the  parlor  of  Mr.  Benja- 
min Moore's  home  on  State  Street,  over  a  nosegay 
from  Mr.  Hogg's  the  florist. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  now,  Mr.  Parsons?" 
she  asked  him. 

"My  father  and  I  have  purchased  a  ship,"  he 
told  her,  "out  of  my  privileges  and  commissions. 

59 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

She  is  a  schooner  of  three  hundred  tons.  She  will 
mount  four  guns.    I  am  to  be  Captain  of  her." 

"What  will  you  name  her,  Mr.  Parsons  ?" 

"She  is  to  be  called  the — the  Felicity  Belle,"  he 
told  her,  and  Felicity  blushed  very  becomingly  at 
the  idea. 

"La,  Mr.  Parsons!  How  you  do  carry  on,  to  be 
sure!" 

"I  will  take  her  to  China.  When  I  return — Fe- 
licity, when  I  return    .    .    ." 

"Yes  ?    When  you  return,  Gamaliel  ?" 

"When  I  return,  will  you  do  me  the  honor  to  be- 
come Mrs.  Gamaliel  Parsons  ?" 

"Only  on  one  condition,"  she  smiled  at  him. 

"And  what  is  that,  Felicity?"  he  asked. 

"On  condition  that — that  you  return  very  soon 
Gamaliel!" 

It  was  a  jubilant  Gamaliel  who  went  back  to  his 
father's  house  that  evening,  a  kapitein  already,  and  a 
bruidegom  to  be. 

"I  love  a  maid,  her  name  is  Sally,"  he  sang 

"Aye,  aye,  roll  and  go! 
She  said,  oh  boy,  why  do  you  dally? 
Spend  my  money  on  Sally  Brown! 
So  I  courted  Sal,  an  only  daughter, 
60 


FIREWORKS  AND  FELICITY 

Aye,  aye,  roll  and  go ! 

For  her  I  sail  upon  the  water, 

Spend  my  money  on  Sally * 

"Do  you  purpose  to  caterwaul  the  whole  night 
through  ?"  his  father  asked  him. 

"Tid  re  I,  tid  re  I, 
Tid  re  id  re  I  do    .    .     *' 

chanted  Gamaliel.     "Did  you  speak,  Sir?" 

"I  asked  if  you  purposed  to  sing  all  night,"  the 
old  man  repeated  with  a  smile.  "What  has  come 
over  you?" 

"The  Captain  said  I'll  give  my  child,  she  is  my 
pride  and  joy!"  Gamaliel  quoted,  and  sat  up  for  a 
long  time  in  his  father's  library  talking  of  the  golden 
future. 

"Take  my  advice,  my  lad,"  Mr.  Parsons  senior 
remarked  finally.  "Never  tell  your  wife  anything 
that  it  is  not  necessary  for  her  to  know.  It  will 
save  an  infinity  of  trouble  in  the  long  run !" 


Gamaliel    was   twenty-one    years    old    when    he 
sailed  down  the  Bay  in  the  Felicity  Belle,  master  and 

61 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

owner,  China  bound,  in  full  uniform,  with  his  crew 
maneuvering  to  the  sound  of  the  boatswain's  pipe, 
like  any  frigate's  company. 

China  bound  .  .  . 

Only  Gamaliel  was  not  China  bound,  not  really. 
It  would  seem  that  he  had  already  adopted  his 
father's  policy  of  not  telling  Miss  Felicity  Moore 
everything,  or  his  father  either,  for  that  matter. 

No.  Ever  since  his  first  voyage  to  the  Orient  he 
had  had  a  different  destination  in  mind.  A  sen- 
tence or  two  picked  up  along  the  busy  South  Street 
wharves  and  remembered  from  boyhood  days;  a 
scrap  of  talk  between  silk  robed  clerks,  overheard  in 
Ah  Fung's  hong  in  Foo  Chow,  had  summoned  up 
a  golden  vision  on  a  distantly  mysterious,  pagodaed 
horizon. 

"Jih-pun  Kwoh!  Jih-pun  Kwoh!"  they  had  said 
with  knowing  smiles.    "The  Kingdom  Horn  the  sun !" 

"Well,  what  is  there  about  it  to  put  your  eye  out  ?" 

"Vely  fine,  vely  lich,  Eulopean  vely  few.  Catchee 
silk,  catchee  blonze,  catchee  copper.  But  vely  diffi- 
cult make  him  tlade." 

"Why  so?" 

"The  Shogun  make  him  shoot  guns  when  foleign 
ship  him  come.     He  say,  you  go  away  flom  my 

62 


FIREWORKS  AND  FELICITY 

countly,  vely  damn  quick,  the  seeing  of  a  foleign 
face  not  being  pleasant!" 

"You  don't  tell  me  ?    Shoot  guns,  hey    .    .    ." 

Captain  von  den  Bosch,  too,  had  put  in  his  pon- 
derous word  to  heighten  the  eagerness  of  Gamaliel's 
purpose. 

"Bejour  Mijnheer,  to  Nihon  Te  Koku  you  would 
go?  Ach,  such  a  blace!  With  sticks  they  eat,  yes, 
and  sit  upon  the  floor,  and  sleep  on  wooden  billows. 
The  walls  of  their  houses  they  make  of  baper,  and 
bathe  all  together  in  the  open — baik!  All  day  long 
they  bathe,  and  the  water  so  hot,  like  a  lopster  you 
are  when  out  you  come,  yes." 

"My  eye  and  Betty  Martin!  How  extraordi- 
nary   .    .    ." 

"And  raw  fish  they  devour,  yes,  on  the  dish  he 
comes  in  flopping,  all  alive,  the  fish,  foeil" 

"I  expect  it  isn't  any  worse  than  eating  oysters, 
and  people  do  that." 

"But  a  fine  country  it  is,  yes,  many  beautiful 
things,  temples  and  balaces,  everywhere  carvings  and 
gold  lacquer.    Wonderful  things  they  make,  yes." 

"That's  what  I  heard.    Good  trading,  it  must  be  ?" 

"Ya — but  kassian,  what  tribulation!" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 
63 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Always  special  bermits  you  must  have,  and  crawl 
on  your  stomach  when  to  move  you  have  to.  The 
Shogun  he  is  not  friendly  to  Europeans.  At  Naga- 
saki a  blace  we  have,  by  concession,  yes — it  is  like  a 
brison  for  the  Dutch." 

"Really.    Well,  split  me !" 

"Ya.  Everywhere  the  oppaser,  the  overseers  of 
the  Shogun,  and  salute  you  must  with  the  guns,  nine 
times  here,  ten  times  there,  and  bresents  bring,  and 
to  go  into  the  town  it  is  not  bermitted,  on  an  island 
we  must  stay.  At  every  step,  soesah,  unpleasantness, 
indignities    .    .    ." 

"But  you  go  there?  You  maintain  the  trading 
post?" 

"Oh,  ya,  Mijnheer,  there  is  much  perkara,  good 
business,  copper  and  silk,  and  brecious  objects. 
Great  profits,  Mijnheer,  but  Allah,  what  kassian!" 

"Hum,  is  that  so — Tid  re  id  re  I  do    .    .    /' 

And  so  now  Gamaliel  was  bound  for  China,  yes, 
to  transact  some  business  and  take  on  some  cargo. 
But  primarily  to  take  on  his  friend  Ah  Fung,  who 
could  speak  the  other  language  and  serve  as  in- 
terpreter and  pilot — about  as  much  of  one  as  the 
other. 

64 


FIREWORKS  AND  FELICITY 

They  had  arranged  it  all  the  time  before  in  Foo 
Chow. 

"To  Jih-pun  Kwoh?"  the  Chinaman  had  objected. 
"Me  not  vely  much  like  tlavel  upon  the  sea.  Make 
him  go  up  and  down,  me  feeling  vely  bad  inside." 

"Coil  up  your  nonsense,  Ah  Fung,"  Gamaliel  ar- 
gued. "I  will  buy  a  new  ship  and  call  her  the  Fe- 
licity Belle.  Wait  until  you  see  her.  She  will  be 
steady  as  a  house,  not  like  a  bobbing  junk." 

"Amelican  ship  not  having  eyes  in  bows,  not  find- 
ing way  acloss  sea !" 

"Rubbish!  How  do  you  suppose  we  get  to 
China?" 

"Follow  him  line  on  map,"  said  Ah  Fung.  "Not 
having  map  to  Jih-pun  Kwoh,  not  finding  line.  Not 
having  eyes,  ship  him  lost." 

"They  don't  need  any  eyes,  Ah  Fung.  American 
ships  smell  their  way,  that  is  why  their  noses  stick 
out  in  front.  Come  on,  I'll  give  you  half  the  profits 
as  your  share." 

"That  is  one  vely  fine  pelkala/'  mused  the  other. 
"Pelhaps  when  you  leturn — if  Felicity  Belle  him 
steady,  all  same  house    .    .    ." 

It  seemed  that  Ah  Fung  was  favorably  impressed 
by  the  Felicity  Belle  when  she  arrived  in  Foo  Chow, 
s  65 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

and  sufficiently  confident  of  her  ability  to  smell  her 
way,  for  he  came  aboard  without  objection,  pre- 
pared for  the  journey,  and  set  up  his  joss  in  the 
cabin. 

"I  make  him  players  to  ancestols  for  stlong  smel- 
ling," he  informed  Gamaliel. 

"You'll  make  such  a  strong  smelling  in  here  we 
won't  be  able  to  breathe,  if  you  burn  any  more  of 
that  punk!"  Gamaliel  laughed. 

And  then  they  sailed  for  the  mysterious  pagodaed 
horizon,  for  Jih-pun  Kwoh,  Nikon  Te  Koku — to 
Yeddo  Bay  to  see  the  Shoguris  oppaser,  or  the  Sho- 
gun  himself,  whoever  he  might  be. 


66 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  LACQUER  BOX 

1 

I YEBITSU,  it  happened  to  be,  Lord  of  the  Toku- 
gawa,  and  a  very  angry  Shogun  he  was  when  the 
Felicity  Belle  rolled  into  Yeddo  Bay  one  fine  morn- 
ing and  dropped  her  anchor  without  so  much  as  a 
gun  fired  in  his  honor,  to  say  nothing  of  the  Heaven 
born  Mikado's. 

"Naruhodo!"  exclaimed  the  Shogun.  "Oshii  koto 
wo  shita — hoighty  toighty,  what's  this,  what's  this  ?" 
or  words  to  that  effect. 

At  all  events  he  gave  a  great  number  of  orders, 
angrily  snapping  his  fan  from  side  to  side,  and  there 
was  much  fluttering  back  and  forth  in  the  palace 
courtyards.  A  little  later  a  state  sampan  went  cut- 
ting its  way  across  the  blue  waters  of  the  Bay  to 
where  the  Felicity  Belle  rode  lazily,  with  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  at  the  gaff.     In  the  stern  sat  a  white 

67 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

robed  dignitary,  with  his  hair  in  a  top  knot,  and  two 
swords  in  his  girdle. 

"Who's  he?"  asked  Gamaliel.     "An  oppaser?" 

"Him  clerk,"  Ah  Fung  reported  in  a  moment. 
"Clerk  of  second  assistant  oppaser.  Him  bling  mes- 
sage." 

"Split  me !"  Gamaliel  stormed.  "Split  me !  Pickle 
his  eyes  in  brine!  Send  a  clerk  out  to  receive  me! 
Tell  him  to  go  away " 

"Him  say  you  go  away  now  vely  quick,"  the 
Chinaman  went  on,  quite  unmoved  by  Gamaliel's 
fury.  "If  not  going,  the  S  ho  gun  make  him  shoot 
guns." 

"Tell  him  I'm  not  afraid  of  his  Shogun,  or  any 
other  kind  of  gun  he's  got,"  Gamaliel  insisted.  "Tell 
him  to  send  someone  in  authority  to  visit  me,  or  I'll 
send  everything  in  the  Bay  down  to  Davy's  locker !" 

"You  catchee  double    .    .    ."  sighed  Ah  Fung. 

The  sampan  departed,  somewhat  more  hastily  than 
it  had  come,  and  once  again  there  was  fluttering 
back  and  forth  in  the  courtyards  of  the  palace.  On 
his  quarterdeck  Gamaliel  paced  up  and  down,  and 
grinned  at  Ah  Fung,  and  hummed  to  himself 

".    .    .  tid  re  I,  tid  re  I, 

Tid  re  id  re  I  do    .    .     " 
68 


THE  LACQUER  BOX 

Some  time  later  a  second  state  sampan,  a  much 
larger  and  gaudier  sampan,  swept  from  the  landing 
stage  out  to  the  Felicity  Belle.  In  the  stern  sat  an 
unmistakably  superior  personage. 

Gamaliel  cocked  one  eye  at  Ah  Fung. 

"Him  number  one  oppaser,"  the  latter  informed 
him.  "All  same  govelnor  of  plovince.  You  not  le- 
ceiving,  catchee  gleat  double  vely  quick !" 

"Man  the  rail !"  commanded  Gamaliel.  "Stand  by 
to  pipe  His  Nibs  up  the  side!"  It  must  be  remem- 
bered that  he  was  only  twenty-one. 

So  they  piped  him  aboard,  with  his  retainers  all 
kneeling  in  a  row  on  the  holystoned  deck — and  at 
a  signal  from  Gamaliel  the  Felicity  Belle  let  go  with 
all  four  cannon  at  once,  twenty-one  guns,  as  loud 
as  you  please. 

"Boom — blam!  Boom — blam!  Boom — blam  .  .  ." 

The  retainers  all  bumped  their  noses,  and  the  dig- 
nitary very  nearly  blinked,  but  the  Shogun  back 
there  in  his  castle  was  delighted.  No  other  ship, 
English,  American  or  Dutch,  had  ever  made  such  a 
satisfying  uproar  before.  It  was  really  very  clever 
of  Gamaliel,  first  to  attract  the  Shogun' s  attention 
by  ignoring  him,  and  then  to  overwhelm  him  with  a 
heedless  extravagance  of  complimentary  gunpowder. 

69 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Ohayo!"  said  His  Nibs  when  the  echoes  had  died 
away,  and  sucked  in  his  breath. 

"No,"  Gamaliel  replied  politely.    "New  York." 

"He  say  good  molning,"  Ah  Fung  put  in  hastily. 
"Ohayo,  good  molning — you  leply  konnichiwa,  good 
day.    And  please  not  to  twist  the  face  with  smiling." 

"Oh,  pardon  me,"  said  Gamaliel.  "Konnichiwa  to 
you,  I'm  sure !"  and  the  palaver  was  on. 

For  twelve  days  the  negotiations  continued,  with 
all  the  pomp  and  paraphernalia  of  the  Shogun's 
exalted  state.  Twelve  times  His  Nibs  came  aboard, 
accompanied  by  his  retainers  and  his  scribes,  to  sit 
under  the  awning  on  the  quarterdeck  after  punctili- 
ously leaving  his  shoes  at  the  rail,  while  Ah  Fung 
squatted  solemnly  before  them  formulating  his  pon- 
derous sentences. 

"Yoku-irasshaimashita — a  welcome  to  you  ..." 

".  .  .  go  sonrai,  we  leceive  with  joy  his  august 
coming." 

"He  say  he  come  make  talk  of  affairs — iiye  dosh- 
ite,  mata  negau  tsumori  de  o  makemoshima- 
shita.    .    .    ." 

"Split  me!"  Gamaliel  would  invariably  exclaim 
in  the  midst  of  these  preliminaries,  prodding  Ah 
Fung  with  his  toe.    "Tell  him  to  take  in  his  slack!" 

70 


THE  LACQUER  BOX 

"He  say  the  sound  of  your  voice  is  as  a  cooling 
stleam  in  summer !"  Ah  Fung  would  breathe  dip- 
lomatically, looking  down  his  nose. 

Twelve  times  Gamaliel  received  them  with  all 
the  fuss  and  circumstance  of  his  exalted  state, 
as  the  Suishi  Te  Koku  of  the  homaesen  beikoku  no, 
the  "admiral"  of  the  American  sailing  ship,  with 
his  officers  in  full  uniform  grouped  around  him, 
side  boys  at  the  rail,  and  the  boatswain  piping 
shrilly 

".    .    .  tee  tootle  tee,  tee  toodledeedle  doo    .    .    ." 

And  every  morning  he  hoisted  his  ensign,  and  took 
it  down  at  each  recurring  sunset,  to  the  sound  of 
booming  guns. 

And  at  the  end  of  the  twelfth  conference  the 
Shogun,  no  doubt  impressed  by  these  manifestations 
and  by  the  reports  of  his  envoy,  gave  his  gracious 
consent  to  the  loading  into  the  Felicity  Belle  of  a 
cargo  of  copper  and  silk  which  made  Gamaliel  turn 
giddy  when  he  appraised  it. 

"Vely  cheap — vely  fine — vely  lich!"  crowed  Ah 
Fung. 

"And  not  so  much  kassian,  and  no  soesah  at  all," 
thought  Gamaliel.  "I  expect  I  know  how  to  do 
perkara  with  these  folks  better  than  the  Dutch!" 

71 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

2 

And  then  His  Nibs  came  back  once  again,  wearing 
several  extra  kimonos  and  a  funny  black  hat  with 
long  streamers,  in  a  state  of  exceptional  solemnity, 
and  presented  an  invitation  to  Gamaliel  from  the 
Shogun  to  attend  an  audience  in  his  honor  on  shore. 

"I  don't  mind!"  said  Gamaliel. 

"Makoto  in  yolokobashiu  gozaimasu!"  interpreted 
Ah  Fung. 

"Sore  wa  kyoetsu  de  gozaimasul"  Said  the  en- 
voy.   "The  same  to  you  and  many  of  them.    .    .    ." 

"What  a  lark !"  laughed  Gamaliel.  "Wish  I  could 
take  a  cannon  ashore." 

"Please  to  keep  quiet,"  warned  Ah  Fung.  "And 
not  make  loud  laughing  at  stlange  sights." 

"Split  me!"  chuckled  his  Captain.  "Will  they 
take  us  bathing  the  way  Jan  told  about !" 

And  so  Gamaliel  went  ashore  in  the  gig,  heading 
a  procession  of  boats  filled  with  his  sailors  armed  to 
the  eyes,  with  his  officers  and  the  indispensable  Ah 
Fung,  very  much  becollared  and  bekerchiefed,  all  a 
glitter  with  gold  braid  and  epaulettes — and  grinning 
from  ear  to  ear.  At  twenty-one  these  things  simply 
can  not  be  taken  seriously. 

"Konnichiwa  to  you,  my  buckos!"  he  remarked, 
72 


THE  LACQUER  BOX 

as  he  stepped  ashore  amid  the  pounding  of  drums 
and  the  booming  of  gongs,  while  the  solemn  faced 
op  posers  of  the  Shogun  with  the  funny  black  hats 
bowed  to  the  ground  before  him. 

"If  I  have  to  bow  like  that  my  hat  will  fall  off," 
Gamaliel  warned  Ah  Fung. 

"Please  not  to  twist  the  face  with  smiling," 
pleaded  the  latter.  "This  is  vely  big  pelkala — the 
light  of  a  thousand  eyes  beats  upon  you,  thoughtless 
one." 

"All  right.  What's  this  green  stuff — am  I  sup- 
posed to  drink  it?" 

"Celemonial  tea,"  prompted  Ah  Fung.  "Drink  him 
vely  quick — him  tasting  of  a  hundred  evil  thoughts." 

Gamaliel  drank  his  tea,  trying  very  hard  not  to 
choke  over  the  thick,  green,  bitter  mixture,  and  in  the 
meantime  his  sailors  stood  at  attention  with  drawn 
cutlasses,  and  the  boatswain  played  Yankee  Doodle, 
while  out  in  the  Bay  the  cook  and  two  boys,  sole 
guardians  of  the  Felicity  Belle,  diffidently  but  none 
the  less  diligently  fired  off  saluting  guns. 

After  that  they  progressed,  m  slow  and  ritualistic 
state.  In  gorgeous,  ponderously  swinging  red  and 
gold  palanquins,  surrounded  by  bronze  armored 
bodyguards  wearing  fantastic  masks,  and  helmets 

73 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

made  of  beaded  straw.  Under  the  fluttering  of  em- 
broidered feudal  banners  and  brightly  colored  paper 
hata,  to  the  sound  of  weirdly  strumming  instruments 
and  screaming  cymbals,  shaken  by  the  thumpings  of 
unexpected  drum  beats.  From  the  landing  stage  to 
the  Shoguris  gold  encrusted  palace  gates,  in  the 
midst  of  a  forest  of  glittering  spears,  bowing  to  the 
homage  of  a  thousand  bending  knees. 

"Suishi  Te  Kokul  Banzai!  Banzai!  Hail  to 
the  Admiral    .    .    ." 

"Take  in  your  slack!"  Gamaliel  kept  chuckling 
to  himself. 

It  was  all  very  gorgeous,  and  very  stirring,  very 
far  removed  from  the  Battery  Park,  from  the  placi- 
dity of  State  Street,  from  the  shadowy  quiet  of  Miss 
Felicity  Moore's  front  parlor ! 

Ah  Fung  had  trembled  privately  over  the  official 
reception,  but  in  the  presence  of  the  Shogun  himself, 
on  his  dais  under  the  tasseled  canopy,  Gamaliel  con- 
trived to  be  very  much  the  "admiral"  throughout  the 
brief  ceremony,  and  his  courteous,  straightforward 
manner  quite  obviously  delighted  the  assembled 
princes.  In  the  matter  of  making  a  speech  only  did 
he  become  restive. 

"Split  me,  Ah  Fung !"  he  told  the  latter,  standing 
74 


THE  LACQUER  BOX 

up  before  them  all,  making  supposedly  appropriate 
gestures.  "I  don't  know  what  to  say,  and  they  can't 
understand  a  word  of  it  in  any  case.  Tell  them — 
oh,  sing  Yankee  Doodle  for  them,  Ah  Fung,  tell 
them  anything  you  like — thanking  you  for  your  de- 
lightful entertainment    .    .    ." 

He  sat  down  again  with  a  profound  bow  and 
glared  at  his  Mate,  while  Ah  Fung  spent  ten  minutes 
improvising  a  flowery  translation  of  what  Gamaliel 
should  have  said. 

There  was  a  state  banquet  after  the  audience,  a 
great  chiso  in  the  black  lacquered  feasting  hall,  with 
the  Tokugawa  crested  hangings  shimmering  mistily 
behind  the  thin  blue  clouds  of  incense  floating  from 
a  hundred  gleaming  braziers. 

"Pinch  me !"  said  Gamaliel  to  Ah  Fung.  "They 
seemed  to  admire  your  speech." 

"Please  not  to  twist  the  face  with  smiling,"  re- 
plied the  latter.  "Pletend  to  eat,  and  do  not  put 
the  thumb  in  the  lice  bowl." 

Course  after  course — chawanmushi,  nisakana, 
shiwoyaki,  arai,  torinabe,  gyunabe,  tsukemono, 
naradzuke, — soups,  boiled  fish,  broiled  fish,  raw 
meat,  as  the  Dutchman  had  said,  sliced  from  a  liv- 
ing flopping  fish  and  very  good,  too,  stews,  pickles — 

75 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

and  gozen,  rice,  rice,  and  more  rice,  all  in  dainty 
bowls  on  lacquer  trays  with  ebony  chop  sticks.  And 
presents  of  fish  to  take  away,  wrapped  in  sea  weed 
and  done  up  in  colored  tissue  paper. 

And  the  staccato  twanging  of  samisen,  and  the 
rhythmic  swaying  of  perfumed  dancing  girls — and 
sake,  fiery,  choking  sake,  that  goes  to  the  head  a  little 
when  one  is  only  twenty-one,  and  sitting  in  front  of 
the  Tokonoma  besides  the  Shogun,  surrounded  by 
his  princely  Daimyos. 

All  very  far  removed  from  the  shadowy  quiet  of 
Miss  Felicity  Moore's  front  parlor.  .  .  . 

At  the  close  of  the  banquet  there  was  an  enter- 
tainment in  the  palace  gardens,  jugglers,  and  acro- 
bats, and  wrestlers,  under  the  glow  of  a  million  paper 
lanterns.  The  official  ceremonies  were  over,  and  the 
Shogun  had  retired,  leaving  his  guests  to  enjoy  the 
freedom  of  his  moonlit  lakes  and  fountains,  and  re- 
gain the  ship  at  their  own  good  pleasure. 

It  was  not  unlike  the  New  York  Garden — and  yet 
very,  very  different  of  course.    .    .    . 

3 

It  was  then  that  the  Lady,  Hasu  No  Hana  San, 
the  Lotos  Flower,  daughter  of  the  Daimyo  Matsu- 

76 


THE  LACQUER  BOX 

daira,  Lord  of  Echizen,  forgetful  of  the  proprieties 
surrounding  her  high  estate,  determined  that  she 
would  walk  in  the  fragrant  dusk  of  her  august 
father's  park,  adjoining  the  pleasure  gardens  of  the 
Shogun. 

It  was  a  pleasant  hour  in  which  to  stroll,  and 
might  there  not  possibly  be  a  glimpse  to  be  caught 
of  the  Suishi  Te  Kokuf  Possibly.  When  one  is 
eighteen,  and  very  wilful,  and  very  daintily  beautiful, 
one  thinks  but  little  of  the  proprieties. 

At  all  events,  Gamaliel  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
Lady  Hasu  No  Hana  as  she  strolled  on  tiny  wooden 
geta,  and  determined  that  he  also  would  walk  in 
the  fragrant  dusk  of  her  august  father's  park. 
One  comes  to  such  determinations  at  twenty- 
one. 

"Do  not!''  warned  Ah  Fung.  "It  is  vely  bad 
pelkala" 

"Konnichiwa,  you  lovely  lady,"  said  Gamaliel, 
bowing  very  low  with  his  hat  in  his  hand. 

"Komban  wa!"  said  the  Lady  Hasu  No  Hana, 
tittering  behind  her  fan. 

"What  does  she  say?" 

"She  say  good  evening,"  muttered  Ah  Fung. 
"You  honor  her  humble  galden    .    .    .     Please  to 

77 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

come  away  vely  quick!"  he  added,  pulling  at  Gama- 
liel's sleeve. 

The  Lady  Hasu  No  Hana  laughed.  Gamaliel 
smiled  with  twinkling  eyes.  Ah  Fung  peered  this 
way  and  that,  clicking  his  tongue. 

"Shall  I?"  Gamaliel  asked,  pointing  to  himself 
and  to  the  gardens  of  the  Shogun  behind  him. 

And  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  Lady  Hasu  No 
Hana  frowned,  ever  so  slightly,  as  at  a  disagree- 
able thought,  and  shook  her  perfumed  head,  ever  so 
quickly,  as  at  the  dismissal  of  such  a  thought.  So 
it  goes  at  eighteen  and  twenty-one,  under  an  Oriental 
moon. 

And  so  Gamaliel  remained  for  a  while  in  the  park 
of  the  Dainty o  Matsudaira,  Lord  of  Echizen,  and 
conversed  with  the  Lady  his  daughter,  Hasu  No 
Hana  San,  the  Lotos  Flower — while  Ah  Fung 
stood  between  them  like  a  statue,  voicing  in  flowery 
words  the  things  that  one  says  at  eighteen  and 
twenty-one. 

"Tell  her  she's  very  beautiful    .    .    ." 

".    .    .  ask  him  if  he  will  come  again?" 

"She  say  her  name  Hasu  No  Hana.  And  you 
name " 

"Gantarieru  Paruso-niso    .    .    .** 
78 


THE  LACQUER  BOX 

"She  say  him  funny  name,  she  will  lemember. 
Please  to  come  away  now  vely  quick." 

".  .  .  omae  wa  suki  da,  say  to  him,  I  like  you," 
and  a  little  torrent  of  mischievous  laughter. 


And  then  suddenly  the  park  of  the  Lord  Matsu- 
daira  was  rilled  with  the  sound  of  running  footsteps, 
and  clinking  armor,  and  angry  outcries,  while  the 
light  from  many  crested  hanging  lanterns  came  bob- 
bing through  the  trees,  driving  dancing  shadows  to 
the  spot  where  the  Lady  Hasu  No  Hana  stood,  un- 
mindful of  the  proprieties. 

"Please  to  come  away  vely  quick!"  chattered  Ah 
Fung.  "This  is  vely  bad  pelkala.  Many  men  come 
this  way  with  bows  and  allows.  I  do  not  seek  to 
join  my  ancestols  in  this  palk!" 

"Not  on  your  life!"  exclaimed  Gamaliel.  "We 
aren't  doing  anything  wrong.  Tell  them  I'll  blow 
their  whole  town  off  the  chart  if  they  stir  a  finger!" 

But  no  one  stirred  now,  except  the  Lady  Hasu  No 
Hana,  and  she  had  stepped  forward  into  the  circle 
of  light,  facing  the  kneeling  rabble.  All  around  them 
the  air  was  filled  with  pikes  and  spears,  bamboo 
staves,  and  arrows  drawn  back  to  the  bow,  in  the 

79 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

hands  of  helmeted  retainers  posturing  like  statues 
in  the  orange  glare. 

"Hell"  she  said  to  them  petulantly.  "Wakari- 
masen — I  do  not  understand.  Why  do  you  come 
threatening  ?" 

"0  Hasu  No  Hana  San!  Sagasu  .  .  .**  they 
replied.  "We  search  for  you!"  And  their  angry 
voices  arose  again,  sharper  than  the  gleaming  spear 
heads,  higher  than  the  dancing  lanterns,  more  hos- 
tile than  the  crested  warriors  grimacing  in  the 
shadows. 

"They  vely  angly,"  whispered  Ah  Fung.  "They 
ask  why  you  standing  in  galden,  call  him  saclilege — 
In  a  minute  they  send  us  to  seek  the  ancestols.  Me 
vely  much  solly  go  so  soon !" 

"Pickle  their  eyes  in  brine !"  Gamaliel  began  im- 
petuously. "I'll  summon  our  sailors — tell  the  squint- 
ing buckos  to  coil  up  their  nonsense  before  I — "  but 
Ah  Fung  silenced  him  with  a  quick  gesture. 

"Do  not  annoy  with  Amelican  talk,"  he  said.  "Le- 
main  in  silence.  The  Lady,  she  is  speaking,  vely 
fine." 

She  was  speaking  now,  very  earnestly,  with 
haughty  looks  and  dainty  movements  of  her  slender 
hands,  and  under  the  spell  of  her  words  the  angry 

80 


THE  LACQUER  BOX 

cries  were  shrinking  like  a  receding  tide,  while  from 
the  upturned  faces  before  her  came  the  hissing  of 
breaths  respectfully  drawn  in. 

"What  is  she  saying,  Ah  Fung?" 

"It  is  vely  fine,"  he  smiled.  "She  has  the  wisdom 
of  a  multitude  of  sages.  She  say  you  come  make 
audience — she  say  make  excuse  f  oleign  custom " 

"Goon!" 

"She  say  you  will  take  gleeting  in  box  to  the  Sho- 
gun  in  Amelica,  flom  the  gleat  Daimyo  Matsudaila. 
She  say  the  Daimyo  not  plesent  now,  being  on  pil- 
glimage  to  Kamakula,  she  is  making  leception " 

"Well,  split  me!" 

"She  speak  to  them  with  the  tongue,  but  with  the 
fan  she  say  to  you,  pletend  him  tlue,  vely  quick 
please.     It  is  vely  fine  talk." 

"Isn't  she  wonderful !"  exclaimed  Gamaliel.  "What 
was  that  she  said  before?"  he  added  quite  irrele- 
vantly.   "Omae  wa  suki  da?" 

And  now  she  had  finished  talking,  and  the  re- 
tainers and  servitors  fell  aside  while  the  Lady 
Hasu  No  Hana  passed  between  them  out  into  the 
shadows. 

"She  go  bling  box,"  explained  Ah  Fung. 

For  a  time  no  one  moved  in  the  park  of  the  Lord 
6  81 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

of  Echizen,  and  then  with  little  footsteps  she  re- 
turned. 

"Pletend,  now  vely  quick  pletend,"  prompted  Ah 
Fung. 

In  her  hands  she  carried  a  box  of  black  lacquer, 
rectangular  in  shape,  with  a  crest  of  gold  circles  re- 
peated three  times,  on  the  lid  and  on  the  sides.  All 
around  it  was  twined  a  red  and  gold  silk  cord  with 
heavy  braided  knots  and  tassels. 

"It  is  a  jobako"  whispered  Ah  Fung.  "The  box 
of  document  flom  plinces,  with  the  clest  of  gold. 
Vely  big  pelkala.  Him  seeing,  not  stopping  him  who 
callies,  when  the  stling  in  knots  lemains.  Vou  take 
him  and  pletend,  and  we  go  vely  quick.' ' 

"All  right,  Ah  Fung,  I  won't  open  it    .    .    ." 

The  Lady  Hasu  No  Hana  sank  to  her  knees  be- 
fore Gamaliel  and  bowed  three  times,  while  behind 
her  the  foreheads  of  her  retainers  touched  the 
ground.  Then  she  held  the  box  up,  its  heavy  silken 
tassels  swinging  gently. 

"She  say,  please  to  accept  this  box,"  murmured 
Ah  Fung.  "And — and  go  vely  quick — and  take  him 
gleeting  to  the  Shogun  in  Amelica,  flom  the  gleat — 
flom  the  Lady  Hasu  No  Hana!"  he  corrected  him- 
self hastily  with  a  nervous  look  around  him. 

82 


THE  LACQUER  BOX 

And  the  Lady  Hasu  No  Hana  smiled  quite  un- 
expectedly up  into  Gamaliel's  eyes. 

"She  say,  Amelican  Suishi,  please  to  lemember — 
I  do  not  know  what  foolish  thing  she  say!"  Ah  Fung 
concluded. 

"But  I  know  what  she  said,"  smiled  Gamaliel. 
"And  I  also  say,  omae  wa  suki  da,  I  like  you,"  and 
he  looked  deeply  into  the  eyes  of  the  Lady  Hasu 
No  Hana. 

He  took  the  box  and  bowed  three  times,  and  she 
bowed  three  times  more,  and  then  through  the  ranks 
of  prostrate  attendants,  followed  by  the  inscrutable 
Ah  Fung,  Gamaliel  passed  out  of  the  park  of  the 
Daimyo  Matsudaira,  Lord  of  Echizen,  and  from  the 
presence  of  the  Lady  his  daughter,  Hasu  No  Hana 
San,  the  Lotos  Flower. 

5 

And  for  some  reason,  when  he  returned  to  New 
York,  Gamaliel  never  told  Miss  Felicity  Moore  about 
these  matters.  Presumably  because  there  was  noth- 
ing to  tell,  nothing  that  it  was  necessary  for  her  to 
know. 

Nor  about  the  sprig  of  cherry  blossom  which  was 
in  the  box. 

83 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

He  could  not  have  told  her  about  that  in  any  case, 
since  he  never  opened  the  box,  and  so  could  not  have 
known  that  the  Lady  Hasu  No  Hana  had  placed  it 
there,  while  she  was  passing  through  the  shadows, 
in  the  fragrant  dusk  of  her  august  father's  park. 

Which  was  perhaps  the  reason  why,  even  after 
many  years  when  little  Matthew  looked  at  it,  the  box 
simply  cried  out  loud  to  be  opened. 


84 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  BLUE  ELEPHANT 
1 

A  H  FUNG  was  very  much  disturbed  at  the  whole 
**  affair,  for  all  the  fabulous  profits  that  fell  to 
his  share. 

"Ah  buh  yao  gin!"  he  scolded  Gamaliel  after- 
wards. "Oh,  no,  it  was  nothing  at  all !  And  those 
many  men  with  bows  and  allows  seeking  for  us  in 
the  galden.  They  vely  angly,  make  chop  head  vely 
much  quick  if  catch.  You  go  by  Amelica  now,  vely 
quick  please !" 

"Coil  up  your  rubbish,  Ah  Fung !  See  you  when  I 
come  back,"  Gamaliel  laughed  at  him.  "Wait  a 
minute — what  was  that  she  said  again,  omae  wa 
suki  da,  I  like  you  ?" 

"Buh  yao  hu  shwoh!"  chattered  Ah  Fung.  "Do 
not  talk  rubbish.    I  do  not  lemember  what  she  say." 

"Well,  no,  of  course  she  did  not  say  it  to  you!" 
grinned  Gamaliel. 

85 


OH,  SUSANNA! 
2 

It  was  when  Gamaliel  returned  from  this  voyage, 
rich  with  that  cargo  of  copper  and  silk  which  he  had 
wheedled  out  of  the  S  ho  gun — chiefly  by  a  process 
of  firing  off  salutes  in  his  honor — that  he  married 
Miss  Felicity  Moore;  at  Trinity  Church,  on  a  sum- 
mer's morning  in  1820. 

It  was  a  very  grand  wedding,  with  the  chains 
stretched  across  the  street  to  prevent  the  disturbance 
of  wheeled  traffic  during  the  ceremony,  and  for  the 
honeymoon  they  drove  out  to  Mr.  Benjamin 
Moore's  farm,  way  up  on  Murray  Hill,  with  hair 
trunks  filled  with  crepes  and  satins,  and  also  more 
serviceable  India  hum-hums,  bafturs  and  gurros. 
Gamaliel  himself  was  very  resplendent  in  tight  white 
breeches,  and  boots,  and  a  fine  green  coat  with  gilt 
buttons. 

Whereupon  for  a  time,  even  as  Mijnheer  van  den 
Bosch  had  warned  him,  his  boat  was  as  one  that  is 
steered  from  the  bow ! 

Which  was  the  reason  why  little  Matthew  came  to 
be  born  aboard  the  Felicity  Belle,  three  days  North- 
west of  the  Horn.  If  he  had  been  a  girl  they  would 
probably  have  named  him  Patagonia! 

86 


THE  BLUE  ELEPHANT 

It  was  Felicity  herself  who  insisted  on  it. 

Mr.  Benjamin  Moore  had  suddenly  found  him- 
self one  morning  with  a  very  profitable  venture  for 
the  Sandwich  Isles  on  his  hands,  and  no  ship  with 
which  to  handle  it,  and  there,  tied  up  to  her  moor- 
ings where  he  could  see  her  from  his  counting  room 
window,  lay  the  Felicity  Belle,  as  idle  as  an  empty 
rum  barrel. 

"Loan  me  the  Felicity  Belle/*  he  suggested  to  his 
son-in-law.    "At  a  good  price,  of  course/' 

"What  do  you  wish  to  do  with  her,  Sir?"  asked 
Gamaliel,  and  Mr.  Moore  outlined  the  voyage  to  him. 

"Just  out  to  the  Sandwich  Isles  and  back.  Keep 
the  barnacles  off  her  while  you  are  ashore." 

"Why,  split  me,  Sir,  I'll  take  her  out  myself," 
said  Gamaliel.  "Glad  to  .  .  ."  And  Felicity 
saw  that  he  would  be  glad  to,  and  understood  that 
it  must  be  so. 

And  so  it  was  arranged.  After  all,  just  a  little 
trip  to  the  Sandwich  Isles  and  back,  it  was  hardly 
worth  mentioning.  Felicity  agreed  with  them  very 
readily. 

They  began  to  load  the  Felicity  Belle,  and  a  few 
days  before  she  was  to  sail  Gamaliel  came  home  and 
found  his  wife  packing  away  her  etceteras. 

87 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"What  are  you  doing,  my  dear?"  he  asked  her. 

"La,  I'm  getting  ready,"  she  replied,  looking  up 
at  him  from  the  floor  where  she  was  sitting.  "For 
the  voyage." 

"For  the  voyage !"  Gamaliel  exclaimed.  "You're 
never  planning  to  come  with  me  in  the  Felicity 
Belle?" 

"And  why  not?"  she  countered.  "Any  number  of 
Captains'  wives  follow  their  husbands  to  sea.  Why 
shouldn't  I  go?" 

"It's  absolutely  out  of  the  question,"  Gamaliel 
began.    "I  won't  allow  it    .    .    ." 

"And  why  not?"  she  asked  again.  "Would  you 
prefer  not  to  have  me  with  you — or  do  you  think 
I'll  not  be  at  home  in  the  Felicity  Belle?" 

"Oh,  my  dear,  it  isn't  that,"  Gamaliel  said  gently. 
"You  know  I  want  to  be  near  you  always,  and  you 
are  a  sailor's  wife  and  fit  to  walk  the  quarterdeck 
of  any  ship  afloat    .    .    ." 

"Very  well  then,"  she  smiled  up  at  him.  "That 
is  why  I  am  packing." 

"But — but — but — "  Gamaliel  stammered  help- 
lessly, and  came  a  step  nearer,  towering  over  her,  his 
arms  outstretched,  his  eyes  very  tender. 

Felicity  stood  up  before  him  suddenly,  and  put 
88 


THE  BLUE  ELEPHANT 

her  hands  on  his  firm  broad  shoulders.  For  a  mo- 
ment she  gazed  into  his  eyes,  and  in  that  moment 
Gamaliel  knew  that  she  would  have  her  way  with 
him,  be  the  risk  what  it  might. 

"Gamaliel,  my  love,"  she  said  to  him.  "You 
know  that  I  could  not  stay  behind,  just  as  I  know 
that  you  must  go  with  your  ship " 

"Split  me,  Madam!"  Gamaliel  exclaimed.  "I'll 
not  go  then!" 

"Oh,  fie,  Gamaliel!"  she  objected.  "Would  you 
shame  me  on  the  waterfront  and  in  the  counting 
rooms,  for  that  I,  a  Captain's  wife,  had  kept  my 
husband  from  sea,  and  his  ship  loaded !" 

"I  would  not  have  undertaken  the  voyage    .    .    ." 

"It  would  have  been  a  pity,"  she  insisted.  "But 
we  shall  want  to  be  near  each  other.  I  am  a  sailor's 
wife,  and  my  husband's  ship  is  my  home.  The — 
the  child  shall  be  born  on  ship  board." 

She  laughed  gaily  into  his  troubled  eyes  and 
turned  to  draw  out  a  volume  from  his  bookshelves, 
a  tattered  Maritime  Manual. 

"See,"  she  exclaimed  mischievously,  hunting 
through  the  worn  pages.    "Here  it  is 

"The  Master  of  a  Vessel  at  sea  may  be  required  to 
administer  physic  to  those  on  board.     He  may  even 

89 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

be  required  to  set  a  broken  arm,  or  saw  off  a  leg,  or 
assist  a  woman  in  childbirth    .    .    . 


I  expect  there  is  nothing  so  very  unusual  in  babies 
being  born  at  sea,  or  they  would  not  have  put  it  in 
the  Manual  I" 

"Soak  my  shirt!"  the  boatswain  exclaimed  when 
he  got  wind  of  these  matters.  "The  Felicity  Belle 
will  be  a  floating  nursery.  The  cat's  getting  ready 
to  have  kittens  too !  How  do  you  pipe  an  infant  up 
the  side,  tell  me  that?" 

But  there  was  no  need  for  that. 

"Gamaliel,  my  love,"  Felicity  whispered  to  him, 
just  as  they  had  rounded  the  Horn,  and  were  headed 
for  500  S.  Pacific.  "Gamaliel — it  will  be  very  soon 
now    .    .    ." 

And  three  days  later,  at  two  bells  in  the  morning 
watch,  little  Matthew  piped  himself  up  the  side,  and 
right  lustily,  as  became  a  blue  water  baby! 

"Well,  split  me!"  Gamaliel  chuckled.  "The  little 
powder  monkey    .    .    ." 

"Then  if  it  be  a  lass u 


the  crew  had  been  singing  all  the  day  befon 

90 


THE  BLUE  ELEPHANT 

"We  shall  dress  her  blue, 
But  if  it  be  a  lad  he  shall  be  one  of  the  crew, 
He  shall  walk  the  quarterdeck  as  a  sailor  bold  and 

true, 
And  fight  for  home  and  country  as  his  daddy  used 

to  do!" 

and  for  once  in  his  life  Gamaliel  really  felt  quite 
embarrassed ! 

"Dress  ship!"  he  commanded,  in  honor  of  the 
event,  and  smiled  foolishly  at  the  cat,  basking  on 
the  after  deck  with  her  seven  kittens. 


When  they  returned  from  that  voyage,  with  Fe- 
licity and  the  youngster  safely  established  in  the  little 
house  on  State  Street,  the  little  house  with  the  red 
front  and  the  green  jalousies,  Gamaliel  turned  his 
face  once  more  to  the  Orient. 

He  was  twenty-four  years  old  now  and  rapidly 
approaching  the  term  of  life  when  seasoned  veterans 
of  his  day  began  to  think  of  retiring  from  the  sea, 
and  turning  over  the  command  of  ships  to  more 
youthful  successors.  But  Gamaliel  had  drunk  too 
deeply  of  the  cup  of  enchantment  in  distant  flowery 

91 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

lands,  and  the  green  pagodaed  horizons  were  calling 
to  him  in  the  dusk. 

He  said  good-bye  to  Felicity,  who  made  no  move 
to  accompany  him  this  time  with  the  baby  to  take 
care  of,  and  gave  little  Matthew  his  finger  to  hold 
for  a  moment.  Then  he  took  the  Felicity  Belle  down 
the  Bay,  outward  bound    .    .    . 


'We're  bound  to  go,  so  better  sing 
Than  pipe  your  tears  away, 
Heave  away,  my  Johnnie  boys, 
We're  all  bound  to  go.   .   .   ." 


Felicity  understood  it  only  too  well — they  were 
all  bound  to  go  when  the  sea  called  to  them. 

Gamaliel  had  hardly  dropped  his  anchor  at  the 
Pagoda  Anchorage  in  Foo  Chow  when  the  excel- 
lent Ah  Fung  was  alongside  in  his  sampan,  smiling 
greetings. 

"Hsi  keh  lax  liaol    You  vely  welcome"  guest." 

"Ho  there!  Ai  titng  ni  shwoh  hwa,  Ah  Fung! 
Ping  an  mo?  How  do  you  do?  I  have  a  son  nearly 
a  year  old." 

"O  hwan  hsi  deh  hen — I  am  filled  with  joy.  I 
congratulate  you  my  fliend,  gung  hsi  ni!    He  will  be 

92 


THE  BLUE  ELEPHANT 

sea  captain  vely  soon,  all  same  father,  yes,  no?    I 
am  filled  with  joy.  .  .  ." 

But  it  was  far  from  being  a  joyful  Ah  Fung  who 
sat  in  the  cabin  of  the  Felicity  Belle  shortly  after- 
wards, exchanging  news  with  his  friend.  He  seemed 
troubled  and  forlorn,  and  his  resonantly  flowery 
phrases  were  so  many  reticences  covering  up  his 
thoughts. 

"What's  the  matter,  Ah  Fung?"  Gamaliel  asked 
him.    "You  don't  look  well." 

"Me  vely  well,"  the  other  assured  him.  "Business 
him  glow,  by  leapings  and  boundings." 

"Well,  that's  good,"  smiled  Gamaliel.  "But  just 
the  same  you  don't  seem  yourself,  somehow.  I  hope 
van  den  Bosch  comes  in,  I  shall  have  to  ask  him 
about  you." 

Ah  Fung  rearranged  his  hands  in  the  folds  of  his 
sleeves  and  gazed  mournfully  at  Gamaliel  for  a 
moment.  Then,  just  as  the  latter  had  been  expect- 
ing, he  began  to  speak,  in  an  expressionless  voice. 

"I  had  an  elephant,"  he  announced. 

"A  what?" 

"An  elephant — a  gajah — elephant,  yes?* 

"Surely,  but  split  me,  Ah  Fung,  what  under 
Heaven  were  you  doing  with  an  elephant  ?" 

93 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Him  blue  elephant,"  said  Ah  Fung,  and  sighed. 
"Back  all  lound,  all  same  cat." 

"Blue  elephant!"  exclaimed  Gamaliel.  "Strike 
me  dumb !  Look  here,  Ah  Fung,  what's  the  matter 
with  you?" 

"Him  vely  fine  blue  elephant,"  Ah  Fung  contin- 
ued.   "M in  Hsing  elephant.    Vely  fine  polcelain." 

"Oh,  porcelain !"  laughed  Gamaliel.  "Why  didn't 
you  say  so?  You're  as  bad  as  a  Connecticut 
Yankee!" 

"Me  lose  elephant,"  said  Ah  Fung,  and  sighed 
once  more. 

"Well,  isn't  that  a  pity,"  Gamaliel  consoled  him. 
"I'm  sorry.    How  did  you  lose  it?" 

"Him  come  flom  Nolth  China,  flom  tomb  of  an- 
cestols.  Vely  fine,  vely  old,  vely  plecious.  Bling 
him  in  ship,  chwan,  junk.    Him  lose  in  ship." 

"But  it  must  be  somewhere  on  board,"  insisted 
Gamaliel.    "Have  you  looked  carefully?" 

"No  can  look  in  ship." 

"Why  not?" 

"Me  lose  ship,  all  same  elephant,"  Ah  Fung  ex- 
plained.    "One  vely  fine  junk." 

"Lost  your  ship !"  cried  Gamaliel.  "That's  a  rig 
of  another  sort.    I'm  terribly  sorry.    Storm  ?" 

94 


THE  BLUE  ELEPHANT 

"No.  No  stolm.  Him  vely  calm  sea.  Me  vely 
solly — it  not  happening  in  lough  sea." 

"What  on  earth  do  you  mean?" 

"Vely  bad  China  men  sail  him  vely  fast  ships,  one, 
two,  thlee,  all  same  lobbers.  Cleep  up  when  sea  him 
calm — fight  like  helly !" 

"Oh,  you  mean  pirates  ?" 

"Yes,  pilates.  Take  him  junk.  One  man  make 
him  lunaway  in  sampan,  bling  me  news.  Me  lose 
Min  Hsing  elephant.  Me  vely  much  solly — dje  go 
szi  ou  rent" 

"Well,  if  that  isn't  just  like  you!"  Gamaliel 
scolded  him.  "Tell  your  story  all  backwards — put 
the  figurehead  on  the  stern.  Something  about  an 
elephant,  and  all  the  time  it  was  a  ship  you  lost!" 
And  of  course  in  the  eyes  of  Gamaliel  a  ship  was 
of  infinitely  more  importance  than  a  mere  porcelain 
elephant,  however  blue. 

4 

Three  days  later  who  should  come  rolling  into 
Ah  Fung's  hong,  with  a  tremendous  woo-ho'mg  of 
breathless  sedan  chair  bearers,  than  Mijnheer  Jan 
Pieterszoon  van  den  Bosch  himself. 

"Wah!  It  is  Mijnheer  Barsons,  yes  ?"  he  shouted, 
95 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

so  they  could  hear  him  all  over  the  establishment. 
"How  is  the  jongen  bruidegom?" 

"I  have  a  son,"  announced  Gamaliel  proudly. 

"So,  a  son  he  has,  yes  ?  That  is  good.  Mevrouw 
Barsons,  she  is  with  you,  no  ?" 

"No,"  smiled  Gamaliel.  "My  boat  is  not  steered 
from  the  bow — not  just  at  present." 

"To  boast  is  not  good,"  said  Jan,  settling  himself 
down  in  a  chair,  while  successive  waves  of  laughter 
rippled  over  his  corpulencies.  "The  time  comes 
some  day,  yes — Heisa!"  he  began  again  gleefully. 
"Such  a  sight  I  see,  five,  six  days  ago.  Luister — 
listen  and  I  will  tell  you." 

"Better  start  another  punkah  going,"  Gamaliel 
suggested.    "When  he  laughs  he  sweats." 

"From  Batavia  I  come,  yes,  for  business,  perkara, 
in  Amoy,  Foo  Chow.  On  the  way  I  bass  a  junk,  yes. 
Helaas,  she  was  a  brisoner." 

"You  passed  a  captive  junk !"  exclaimed  Gamaliel, 
looking  at  Ah  Fung  who  made  no  sound. 

"Ik  vrees  van  wel — I  fear  it  is  so.  All  around  her 
Chinese  lorchers,  sea  robber  boats,  yes,  and  they 
make  feasting  on  board.    A  fine  junk,  helaas/' 

"Couldn't  you  have  recaptured  her?" 

"Ei,  hot  head !  There  were  many  lorchers,  and  I 
96 


THE  BLUE  ELEPHANT 

have  a  rich  cargo.  What  to  do  with  a  Chinese  junk 
in  Allah's  name?  Tow  her  I  can  not  with  the 
Oost  Indie." 

"No,  I  suppose  not    .    .    ." 

"No,  but  luister,  and  you  shall  laugh.  Suddenly 
from  behind  the  land,  yes,  there  come  many  boats, 
Malay  praus.  They  sail  for  the  junk,  and  they 
attack  the  lorchers." 

"Is  that  so?"  said  Gamaliel.  "Split  me,  Malay 
pirates  against  Chinese  pirates !  He  laughs  best  who 
laughs  last,  in  other  words." 

"Ya,  one  perumpak  against  the  other.  Such  a 
bleasing  sight !" 

"And  who  make  him  vely  much  laugh  when 
finishing?"  asked  Ah  Fung  suddenly. 

"Allah!  The  Malay  u,  natuurlijk!  They  fight 
like  devils — pangamuk.  I  do  not  remain  near,  but 
when  I  go  the  lorcher  birates  were  leaping  from  the 
deck,  sa  lekas  lekas,  all  together !" 

"Large  junk  was  she?"  asked  Gamaliel,  who  had 
been  watching  Ah  Fung  all  this  time. 

"Ya,  a  fine  junk,  with  green  and  gold  eyes  in  the 
bows,  three  masts,  a  dragon  on  the  stern,  ya,  a 
fine  junk." 

Ah  Fung  sighed  gently  in  his  corner. 
7  97 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"They  will  take  her  to  Barangambalang,"  went  on 
the  Dutchman.    "If  they  do  not  lose  her  themselves.' ' 

"What  makes  you  think  so  ?" 

"They  were  Barangambalang  praus,  I  would 
swear  to  it.  Almost  I  swear  I  recognize  that  fat 
Ismail  in  the  foremost  prau — and  his  jurumudi 
with  the  red  sarongs." 

"His  what?" 

"His  steersmen.  A  prau  it  have  two  steersmen 
you  know,  Mijnheer,  two  rudders  at  once." 

"Oh  yes.    .    .    ." 

"Those  jurumudi  of  Ismail's  they  are  the  greatest 
cut  throats  in  Malaya,  although  in  Barangambalang 
very  respectable  citizens  they  are.  Well,  no  matter, 
I  have  much  laughed  at  that  perkara.  But  she  was 
a  fine  junk !" 

"Vely  fine  junk,"  said  Ah  Fung  suddenly,  with- 
out stirring.  "With  eyes,  gleen  and  gold,  and  a 
dlagon.  Me  vely  solly  lose,  him  callying  Min  Hsing 
elephant." 

"Heusch!"  exclaimed  the  Dutchman.  "What  do 
you  say,  an  elephant?" 

"Me  like  vely  much  make  him  last  laughing  with 
pelumpak  Ismail !" 

"Well,  split  me,  and  why  not  be  the  last  to  laugh  ?" 
98 


THE  BLUE  ELEPHANT 

asked  Gamaliel,  after  they  had  explained  matters  to 
van  den  Bosch,  with  many  interruptions. 

"Wah  Bela,  how  unfortunate    .    .    ." 

".  .  .he  seems  to  care  more  about  this  precious 
elephant  than  he  does  about  the  junk!" 

"Him  vely,  plecious  elephant." 

".  .  .Sayang!  An  elephant  you  say  ?  I  am  sur- 
prised   .    .    ." 

"Something  should  be  done  about  that  Parangam- 
balang  settlement,"  went  on  Gamaliel.  "They  are 
becoming  notorious.  You  Dutch  are  too  easy  going. 
Pickle  their  eyes  in  brine,  you  ought  to  blow  that 
pirate's  nest  out  of  the  water  once  and  for  all." 

"Baik!"  laughed  the  Dutchman.  "The  jongen 
here,  he  will  tie  the  bell  to  the  neck  of  the  cat!" 

"Well,  split  me  if  I  don't,  Sir !"  exclaimed  Gama- 
liel.   "Now  listen  to  me    .    .    ." 

For  a  long  time  they  talked,  under  the  punkahs 
in  the  shadowy  hong,  the  Dutchman  stolid  and  per- 
spiring, Ah  Fung  alertly  attentive  for  all  his  motion- 
less silence.  And  Gamaliel  now  very  much  in 
earnest,  as  will  happen  when  one  forgets  one's  posi- 
tion and  responsibilities,  and  remembers  only  that  one 
is  twenty-four,  with  a  good  turn  to  do  for  a  friend. 

".  .  .  heel  goed"  van  den  Bosch  said  finally. 
99 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"I  will  go  to  Barangambalang.  Me  they  will  not 
attack.  If  the  junk  is  there  I  will  wait,  or  I  will 
find  out  what  they  do  with  her.  If  I  am  not  there, 
it  is  that  Ismail  did  not  take  her." 

"That's  the  course!  Find  out  all  you  can,  and 
don't  do  anything  until  I  come." 

"Allah,  not  I!  I  am  good  friend  with  Ismail. 
I  go  to  Barangambalang  for  perkara  only,  perkara 
in  spices." 

"Of  course.  And  then  I'll  drop  in  there  too,  just 
for  perkara  you  understand — perkara  in  spices,  and 
elephants,  and  possibly  a  junk  or  two.  You  don't 
have  to  help  me,  Jan,  and  spoil  your  trade,  but  per- 
haps you  can  get  in  somebody's  way  at  the  right 
moment !" 

"Het  is  mogelijk,"  smiled  van  den  Bosch.  "It 
may  be,  so  fat  and  clumsy  am  I." 

"You  make  him  vely  much  double,  my  fliend," 
objected  Ah  Fung. 

"Coil  up  your  nonsense!"  grinned  Gamaliel. 
"They  need  a  lesson  down  there,  and  maybe  we'll 
have  a  good  laugh." 

"Yaf  that  is  so    .    .    ." 

"Think  you  can  stand  another  ocean  voyage,  Ah 
Fung?" 

100 


THE  BLUE  ELEPHANT 

"The  ancestols  will  plotect,  and  make  him  Fe- 
licity Belle  all  same  house  upon  the  water !" 

"Very  well.  Now  then,  Jan,  show  me  how  to 
get  to  this  Parangambalang — where  are  the  charts, 
—here    .    .    ." 

Once  again,  this  was  all  very  far  removed  from 
the  quiet  placidity  of  State  Street! 


101 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  SONG  IN  THE  NIGHT 

1 

Q  OME  six  weeks  later  the  Felicity  Belle  nosed  her 
^  way  into  the  mouth  of  the  Parangambalang 
River,  through  the  sand  bars,  past  the  banks  of  deep 
black  mud  covered  with  mangroves,  and  cast  her 
anchor  before  a  mist  hidden,  marshy  shore  fringed 
with  casuarina  trees.  Behind  this  strip  stood  the 
luxuriant  forests,  and  above  them  the  peaks  of 
mountains,  with  here  and  there  a  reddish  cliff  show- 
ing through  the  greenery. 

From  around  a  bend  in  the  river  came  a  persist- 
ent sounding  of  gongs,  and  nearby  in  the  stream, 
riding  lazily  at  her  anchors,  stood  the  Oost  Indie, 
surrounded  by  native  praus. 

"Tid  re  id  re  I  do  .  .  ."  hummed  Gamaliel, 
leaning  against  the  rail.  "I  expect  it  gets  hotter  than 
a  ladle  in  a  bowl  of  toddy  here  when  the  sun's  over 
the  yard  arm." 

102 


A  SONG  IN  THE  NIGHT 

"He  has  waited,"  observed  Ah  Fung. 

"And  here  he  comes — Ahoy  there !" 

"Be jour  Mijnheer,"  smiled  van  den  Bosch  when 
he  came  aboard  a  few  minutes  later.  "Tuan  Ismail 
rings  gongs  for  you!  From  Bajarak  they  bring 
word  of  your  coming  yesterday  already,  yes.  Wel- 
come to  Malaya !" 

"Thanks.  What  happens  on  a  really  hot  day — and 
what  are  the  gongs  for?" 

"To  summon  the  traders,'  yes.  I  say  to  Ismail 
you  are  my  friend,  you  will  make  perkara.  So  now 
he  summons  his  traders.  Ismail's  fighting  men  they 
are  all  traders  in  the  day  time,  yes  lM 

"Oh  I  see,"  said  Gamaliel.  "Well,  what's  the 
news?" 

"So  so,"  replied  the  Dutchman.  "The  junk  is 
here,  yes,  around  the  bend.  A  stranding  says 
that  lying  perumpak  Ismail  when  I  ask  him 
about  it.  And  while  he  lies  yet  does  he  speak 
true." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"She  is  stranded  now,  on  the  bank.  To  get  her 
off  is  het  niet  mogelijk — to  try  is  wasted  breath,  like 
writing  on  water." 

"Now  isn't  that  the  devil !" 
103 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"It  make  not  tlouble,"  said  Ah  Fung.  "Pelhaps 
elephant  him  not  stlanded." 

"Baik!"  exclaimed  Jan.  "Luister,  about  the  ele- 
phant.   I  have  seen." 

"You  have  seen  the  elephant?" 

"Ya.  Ismail  take  me  to  visit  the  junk,  yes,  he 
is  entirely  without  shame.  He  has  taken  everything 
from  her,  but  the  elephant — blue  porcelain,  yes — 
he  stands  in  the  deck  house." 

"Him  not  bloken?"  Ah  Fung  asked  anxiously. 
"Him  vely  fine  blue  Min  Hsing  elephant,  vely 
plecious !" 

"Not  at  all.  Luister — Ismail  has  given  the  junk 
and  the  elephant  to  Maimunah  for  a  bresent." 

"And  who  is  Maimunah  ?" 

"She  is  anak  parampuan — the  daughter  of  a  raja." 

"The  boatmen  shout,  'tis  time  to  part, 

No  longer  can  we  stay, 
'Twas  then  Maimunah  taught  my  heart 

How  much  a  glance  can  say " 

chanted  Gamaliel,  thinking  of  the  old  song.  "Snarl 
up  my  halliards — so  there's  a  girl  mixed  up  in  it 
now,  is  there?  That  doesn't  help  matters  at  all, 
does  it?" 

104 


A  SONG  IN  THE  NIGHT 

"She  is  a  putri,  a  brincess,  and  she  is  very  beauti- 
ful, yes.  Ismail  he  sings  pantun  to  her  in  the  moon- 
light." 

"What  does  he  sing?" 

"Pantun,  love  boems.  The  young  men  of  Malaya 
they  never  sleep,  no.  Always  they  sing  love  boems 
in  the  night,  very  loud,  yes." 

"How  delightful !" 

"Ismail  he  does  the  same,  although  not  so  young 
is  he  now.  He  makes  eyes  at  Maimunah,  and  to  her 
he  has  given  the  junk,  and  the  elephant,  for  a  toy." 

"That  is  one  vely  funny  thing,"  announced  Ah 
Fung.  "Alleady  I  make  gleat  laughing."  And  pre- 
sumably he  did,  although  his  expression  did  not 
change,  and  he  made  no  sound  in  the  least  indicative 
of  mirth. 

"Baik!  There  is  a  much  funnier  thing.  Maimu- 
nah, she  takes  the  elephant,  yes.  And  often  she 
visits  the  junk,  to  watch  the  stars  berhaps,  I  do  not 
know.  But  she  blace  her  fingers  in  her  ears  when 
Ismail  comes  with  his  pantun" 

"She  doesn't  care  for  Ismail  ?" 

"No,  he  is  too  fat.  Like  me  he  is  fat.  An  im- 
pression he  does  not  make  on  Maimunah,  but  always 
he  tries.     He  is  as  an  owl  singing  for  the  moon. 

105 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

A  fat  owl.  In  Barangambalang  it  is  a  broverb — 
when  Ismail  wins  Maimunah — that  is  never !" 

"I  make  vely  gleat  laughing!"  Ah  Fung  repeated 
solemnly. 

"What  will  you  do,  Tuan  Barsons?"  asked  van 
den  Bosch.  "To  recapture  the  junk  it  is  not  bossible. 
You  can  not  get  her  except  to  burn,  and  Ismail  he 
would  fight  like  a  pangamuk  for  the  gift  he  has  made 
to  Maimunah." 

"I  suppose  so." 

"It  is  very  good  perkara  here  on  this  river,  in 
spices,  yes.  It  would  be  a  bity  to  destroy  just  for  an 
elephant." 

"Oh,  I  won't  destroy  it,"  said  Gamaliel.  "I 
promised  you  I  would  do  nothing  to  hurt  your  trade." 

"Then  what  will  you  do?" 

"Oh,  first  I'll  do  perkara  with  His  Nibs  myself, 
in  spices.  And  then — then  I'll  see  about  the  ele- 
phant when  the  time  comes !" 


Very  satisfactory  perkara  it  was  too,  pekuls  and 
pekuls  of  it,  after  the  first  endlessly  solemn  inter- 
views on  the  quarterdeck  between  himself  and  the 
portly  Ismail,  with  the  Dutchman  presiding. 

106 


A  SONG  IN  THE  NIGHT 

Ah  Fung  for  his  part  kept  out  of  sight  during 
these  visits  of  the  red  saronged  chieftain  to  the 
Felicity  Belle,  and  burned  incense  to  his  joss  for  the 
return  of  the  Min  Using  elephant. 

The  very  first  night  as  they  were  sitting  under  the 
stars  after  the  day's  work,  watching  the  dancing 
fireflies,  the  kelip-kelip,  there  came  floating  across 
the  water  the  long  drawn  out  echoes  of  a  song, 
tremulous  and  yearning. 

"Brappa  tinggi  puchok  pisang, 
Tinggi  lagi  asap  api, 
Brappa   tinggi  gunong   me-lentang, 
Tinggi  lagi  harap  hati    .    .    /' 

"Ismail,"  chuckled  van  den  Bosch.  "He  sings 
pantun  to  Maimunah 

"So  high  the  stem  of  the  banana  tree, 
Higher  still  the  smoke  of  fire. 
So  high  the  mountain  range, 
Higher  still  the  desire  of  my  heart    .    .    . 

Is  it  not  touching?  A  bity  it  is  that  brobably 
she  sleeps,  and  only  the  blue  borcelain  elephant 
hears!" 

"Where  is  the  elephant  exactly  ?"  asked  Gamaliel. 
107 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"In  the  deck  house,  on  the  shelf,  yes,  towards  the 
bow." 

"And  Maimunah,  is  she  there  often?" 

"Ya,  often  she  comes  there.  Sometimes  in  day 
time,  sometimes  at  night,  there  is  no  telling." 

"What  does  she  do  on  the  junk?" 

"I  do  not  know.  The  shade  of  the  deck  house 
she  likes,  yes.  She  watches  the  river,  and  the  stars. 
Berhaps  she  waits  for  one  who  is  not  fat  like  Ismail. 
Early  in  the  morning  I  have  seen  her  on  the  beach 
with  her  women — the  night  she  has  spent  on  the 
junk,  when  there  was  feasting  in  her  father's  com- 
pound." 

"Is  she  always  closely  guarded?" 

"No,  not  always.  She  comes  and  goes.  But  al- 
ways Ismail  watch  the  junk,  yes.  And  in  the  jungle 
there  are  many  eyes  also." 

"And  I  suppose  he's  floating  up  and  down  out 
there  every  night!  The  watchers  don't  pay  much 
attention  to  a  pantun  singer,  do  they?" 

"No,  a  pantun  singer  is  as  an  owl  crying  in  the 
night.  Three  nights  from  tomorrow  Ismail  has  said 
that  he  goes  to  Bajarak  for  a  wedding,  so  there  will 
be  no  pantun  on  that  night  for  him.  But  otherwise 
every  night  he  is  there,  yes." 

108 


A  SONG  IN  THE  NIGHT 

"Tid  re  I,  tid  re  id  re  I  do — "  mused  Gamaliel. 
"Listen,  there's  the  song  again.  Write  the  words 
down  for  me,  will  you    .    .    ." 

3 

On  the  third  night  from  the  morrow  Mijnheer 
van  den  Bosch  sat  up  suddenly,  very  wide  awake  in 
his  bunk.  Across  the  water  came  the  echoes  of  a 
song 

".    .    .  t'mgg'%  puchok  pisang, 
Tinggi  lagi  asap     .     .     /' 

"Wah!"  exclaimed  the  Dutchman.  "Ismail  has 
returned?  Jeverbaastmij  .  .  ."  and  then  a  grip- 
ping fear  came  to  him,  and  sent  him  hastening  over 
to  the  Felicity  Belle,  just  as  he  was  in  his  sleeping 
suit. 

"Where  is  Tuan  Barsons  ?"  he  asked  Ah  Fung  as 
soon  as  he  had  come  alongside. 

"Shen  mo  hwa!  You  ask?  He  say  going  in  plau 
by  your  ship — me  not  seeing  him  since." 

"Wah  Beta!"  stormed  the  Captain.  "He  has  not 
been  to  my  ship,  no.  Dwaase  jongen,  the  foolish 
one — luister,  the  song  you  hear,  yes  ?" 

"I  hear  him  pantun." 

109 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"That  is   Titan  Barsons  who  sings,  verdaamte 
jongen!" 

".    .  .    lagi    .    .    .    harap    .    .    .    hati    .    .    ." 


Such  indeed  had  been  the  utterly  reckless  folly  of 
Tuan  Parsons.  To  drop  into  a  dugout,  clothed  in 
native  Malay  costume,  and  make  off  up  stream 
around  the  bend.  And  then,  knowing  Ismail  to  be 
absent,  to  paddle  up  and  down  before  the  junk  in 
the  changing  moonlight,  singing  pantun  at  the  top  of 
his  lungs,  until,  having  set  at  ease  the  suspicions  of 
any  watcher  on  deck  or  ashore,  he  might  find  the 
opportune  moment  for  clambering  aboard. 

".  .  .  and  bravely  swam  until  he  reached  the 
rascal  pirate's  side,"  Gamaliel  kept  thinking  to  him- 
self between  his  native  outbursts.  "He  climbed 
aboard  and  went  below,  by  none  was  he  es- 
pied   .    .  ." 

It  was  a  folly  without  equal,  alone  in  a  crazy  boat 
on  the  crocodile  infested  river,  at  the  mercy  of  what- 
ever dangers  might  be  awaiting  him  in  the  thick 
blackness  of  the  stranded  junk,  and  all  for  a  blue 
elephant. 

110 


A  SONG  IN  THE  NIGHT 

But  Gamaliel  was  deeply  indebted  to  Ah  Fung  for 
many  kindnesses,  and  the  Chinaman  seemed  to  have 
set  his  heart  on  recovering  this  precious  piece  of 
porcelain  of  his.  And  then,  after  all,  as  an  adventure 
it  had  its  pleasing  features ! 

".    .     .  tinggi  lagi  harap  hati!" 

"It's  all  dark  and  quiet  as  a  powder  magazine !" 
thought  Gamaliel.  "Hope  Maimunah  isn't  aboard, 
but  if  she  is,  she'll  think  it's  the  fat  Ismail  and  turn 
over  on  the  other  ear  1"  And  he  allowed  his  boat  to 
drift  under  the  shadow  of  the  junk's  high  stern,  as 
the  moon  slipped  suddenly  behind  a  cloud. 

But  as  it  happened,  Maimunah  was  aboard,  and 
she  had  not  turned  over  on  the  other  ear.  On  the 
contrary,  she  was  sitting  up  very  straight  on  the 
mats  in  the  deck  house,  listening. 

"Wahr  she  said  to  herself.  "The  pantun  is 
Ismail's  but  the  voice  is  not  the  voice  of  Ismail.  The 
voice  is  a  pleasing  one." 

And  so  it  was  that  she  felt  the  noiseless  passage 
of  bare  footsteps  on  the  deck,  and  saw  the  darker 
shadow  standing  in  the  entrance  to  the  deck  house, 
where  the  curtains  had  been  drawn  aside,  ever  so 
slightly. 

Ill 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Maimunah  reached  for  the  tumbok  lada,  the  stab- 
bing dagger,  at  her  side,  and  waited,  motionless  and 
staring    .    .    . 

5 
Around  the  bend  in  the  river,  past  the  Oost  Indie, 
as  though  coming  from  the  direction  of  Pajarak, 
went  a  native  canoe,  driven  furiously  towards  the 
junk  by  a  solitary  white  clad  paddler.  The  moon 
came  out  again  suddenly  from  behind  the  clouds  to 
watch,  darting  in  and  out  of  the  flying  scud    .    .    . 

6 

"Not  a  sound,"  said  Gamaliel  to  himself,  standing 
in  the  entrance  to  the  deck  house.  "If  Maimunah 
is  here  she  is  asleep.  Now  then,  on  the  shelf  Jan 
said,  towards  the  bow." 

He  dropped  gently  onto  his  knees  and  began  to 
creep  forward,  very  cautiously  and  breathlessly, 
through  the  blackness  of  the  deck  house. 

"If  I  run  foul  of  something,  it's  farewell  Vaux- 
hall  for  me !"  he  thought. 

Behind  him,  near  the  entrance,  Maimanuh  sat 
very  still  and  watched.  Suddenly  she  clutched  the 
dagger  more  closely  to  her  breast.    The  moon  shone 

112 


A  SONG  IN  THE  NIGHT 

brighter  for  a  second  and  then  hid  itself  again,  as 
though  frightened  at  what  it  had  seen. 

"Wah!"  thought  Maimunah.  "Those  are  the  foot- 
steps of  another  upon  the  deck,  more  heavy  foot- 
steps. This  time  it  is  Ismail  who  has  returned  and 
followed.    There  will  be  mangamuk  in  this  place." 

Gamaliel  had  put  out  his  hand  and  touched  the 
matting  at  the  further  end  of  the  deck  house.  Very 
slowly  he  raised  himself,  feeling  for  the  shelf.  With 
questing  fingers  he  searched  this  way  and  that  until 
they  met  an  object,  cold  and  smooth.  Swiftly  he 
passed  his  hand  over  the  rounded  back,  fingered  the 
legs  and  trunk.    It  was  the  elephant. 

And  then  Maimunah  screamed. 

"Nyah-lah,  Ismail!    Nyah-lah — Nah!" 

And  as  Gamaliel  whirled  around  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  slender  figure  hurling  itself  at  another 
heavier  one  behind  him.  In  the  pale  light  from  the 
doorway  the  blade  of  an  unsheathed  kris  gleamed 
above  their  heads. 

"Nyah-lah,  Ismail!"  Maimunah  screamed  again. 
"Nyah-l — Nyah — Ny — w  They  were  struggling  out 
through  the  doorway,  her  cries  choking  under  the 
other's  heavy  hands. 

Gamaliel  kicked  his  way  through  the  curtains  and 
s  113 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

ran  for  the  side  of  the  junk  with  the  elephant  under 
his  arm.  He  was  minded  to  go  to  the  girl's  assist- 
ance, but  behind  him  he  heard  heavy  footsteps  run- 
ning, and  the  shrill  scolding  voice  of  Maimunah  as 
he  went  over  the  side. 

"Nyah-lah!    Nyah-lah    .    .    /' 

"Split  me,  he's  after  me !"  thought  Gamaliel,  and 
pushed  his  dugout  away  into  the  stream.  Behind 
him  came  a  canoe,  paddled  furiously  by  a  white  clad 
figure,  but  he  left  it  astern  as  he  went  around  the 
bend. 

7 

When  Gamaliel  scrambled  aboard  the  Felicity 
Belle  again  he  found  Ah  Fung  squatting  on  the 
deck,  rolling  his  eyes,  apparently  speechless  with 
terror. 

"What's  the  matter,  Ah  Fung?"  he  grinned  at 
him.  "How  do  you  like  my  costume?  Of  course 
it  wouldn't  do  for  Washington  Hall !" 

"You  alive?"  chattered  Ah  Fung,  "  You  not 
hantur 

"Certainly  I'm  alive,"  Gamaliel  assured  him. 
"Here's  your  elephant." 

Ah  Fung  took  the  elephant  and  hugged  it  to  his 
breast,  but  his  eyes  never  left  Gamaliel. 

114 


A  SONG  IN  THE  NIGHT 

"You  vely  foolish  one,"  he  scolded.  "You  lisk 
life  all  alone.  Me  vely,  vely  flightened.  Me  not 
laughing  at  all — dje  go  szi  ni  dzo  huh  deh    .    .     '* 

"Take  in  your  slack  about  that,  Ah  Fung.  There 
was  no  other  way  to  get  it." 

"Is  he  there  ?"  came  the  sudden  booming  voice  of 
van  den  Bosch  from  alongside,  and  the  Dutchman 
appeared  at  the  rail,  still  dressed  in  his  sleeping  suit. 
"Verdaamte  jongen!    Where  have  you  been?" 

"Trading  in  elephants,"  Gamaliel  told  him.  "I 
got  this  one  for  a  song !" 

"So?"  said  the  Dutchman.  "I  hear  the  pantun. 
You  are  a  dwaase  jongen,  Tuan  Barsons." 

"Well,  I  couldn't  think  of  any  other  way  to  get 
the  elephant,  so  I  just  tacked  up  there  in  the  dark. 
I  knew  they  wouldn't  pay  any  attention  to  a  pantun 
singer,  and  I  thought  I'd  take  a  risk  with  Maimu- 
nah." 

"So?"    Jan  repeated. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,"  Gamaliel  confessed,  "it 
didn't  work  quite  as  well  as  I  thought.  We'll  have 
to  sail  from  here  sa  lekas  lekas!  You  can  blame  it 
on  me.  Ismail  came  back,  yes,  he  was  on  the  junk. 
He  chased  me  down  the  river  for  a  while  after  I  got 
away.    I  hope  he  only  took  me  for  a  native." 

115 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Oh,  ya?" 

"Split  me,  funny  thing  too.  Maimunah  was  there, 
and  she  must  have  been  awake.  I  didn't  hear  any- 
thing, but  she  did,  and  she  flew  at  him  with  a  dirk 
when  he  appeared  in  the  doorway  of  the  deck 
house  I" 

"Fa— so?" 

"She  screamed  all  of  a  sudden,  I  dropped  the 
elephant!  What  does  Nyah-lah  mean?  She  kept 
saying  that  to  him." 

"It  means  go  away,  be  off  with  you,"  frowned 
the  Dutchman. 

"I  thought  so.  She  certainly  was  in  a  fury  at 
Ismail.    It's  a  good  thing  she  didn't  see  me !" 

Ah  Fung  was  still  rolling  his  eyes  at  this  recital 
of  Gamaliel's  doings,  and  van  den  Bosch  sat  glow- 
ering at  them  both. 

"You  are  a  verdaamte  jongen,"  he  said  finally. 
"Maimunah,  she  had  seen  you,  yes.  She  was  sitting 
on  the  floor  with  a  tumbok  lada  in  her  hand,  watch- 
ing you." 

"Pickle  me !    What — how — how  do  you  know  ?" 

"Because  it  was  not  Ismail  who  returned,"  replied 
the  other.  "It  was  I,  Jan  Pieterszoon  van  den 
Bosch,  yes.     I  see  her  for  a  second  in  the  moon- 

116 


A  SONG  IN  THE  NIGHT 

light  before  she  see  me  and  think  I  am  the  fat 
Ismail!" 

"You — you — scrape  my  keel !"  stammered  Gama- 
liel.   "You  followed  me?" 

"Natuurlijk!    I  am  a  very  brave  man  I" 
"Well,  I'll  be    .    .    ."  began  Gamaliel,  and  then  he 
chuckled.      "I    told   you    perhaps    you    could    get 
in  somebody's  way  at  the   right  moment,   didn't 

i?" 

"Bickle  your  eyes  in  sea  water!"  scowled  Jan. 

"Look  here,  then,"  Gamaliel  went  on.  "If  she 
saw  me,  why  did  she  scream  Nyah-lah  to  Ismail,  as 
she  thought,  and  go  after  him  with  a  dagger,  hey, 
tell  me  that  my  buckos !" 

"Berhaps  because  you  are  not  fat  like  Ismail — 
how  do  I  know?"  grunted  the  Dutchman. 

Gamaliel  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  and  saw  a 
smile  come  into  the  eyes  of  his  two  friends. 

".  .  .  oh,  dear  me,  varnish  my  spars!"  he  re- 
marked after  a  moment's  silence.     "Hmm — yes — 

"Tid  re  id  re  I  do    .    .    . 

Ahoy,  Ah  Fung,  for  Heaven's  sake,  what  are  you 
doing?" 

The  Chinaman  was  busily  fingering  at  the  mouth 
117 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

of  the  elephant,  apparently  feeling  for  something  in 
the  hollow  interior. 

"Him  vely  plecious  elephant,"  he  said.  "Me  vely 
glad  have  back  again — see  ?" 

He  pulled  out  a  twisted  paper  and  opened  it  in 
the  palm  of  his  hand.  The  contents  glittered  and 
twinkled  in  the  light,  like  many  colored  fireflies. 
Emeralds,  and  sapphires  and  diamonds. 

"Goede  Hemel!"  exclaimed  van  den  Bosch.  "It 
is  a  fortune  I" 

"Me  vely  solly  lose,"  said  Ah  Fung.  "Him  com- 
ing flom  ancestols.    Him  vely  sacled." 

"Confound  you,  Ah  Fung,"  complained  Gamaliel. 
"Why  can't  you  tell  a  story  straight !  First  it's  an 
elephant,  then  it's  a  ship,  now  it's  a  handful  of 
jewels !" 

"You  like  keep  elephant?"  smiled  Ah  Fung. 
"Him  vely  fine  blue  Min  Hsing  elephant.  Him  vely 
sacled  too.  You  plomise  keep,  and  me  make  him 
gift  to  you,  my  fliend." 

"Yes,  I'll  promise,  of  course — thank  you,  Ah 
Fung " 

"Then  a  gift  me  make — and  me  say  to  you,  some 
day  he  bling  you  and  your  house  gleat  luck — if  keep- 
ing until  time  to  bleak  and  thlow  away " 

118 


A  SONG  IN  THE  NIGHT 

"What?" 

"Much  money  he  bling  in  Amelica,  pelhaps  many 
come  seeking — but  if  keeping,  gleat  luck  he  bling. 
And  when  time  him  come,  if  have  wisdom  to  bleak 
and  thlow  away,  not  keeping  any  longer  although 
plecious,  then  a  blessing  him  bling — when  time  him 
come,  and  wisdom  call,  today,  tomollow,  in  a  hun- 
dled  years !" 

"Great  luck  if  I  keep  him,  to  come  to  me  and  my 
house,  and  a  blessing  if  he  is  broken  and  thrown 
away  when  the  time  comes  no  matter  how 
precious!  What's  that,  a  prophecy,  or  a  Chinese 
riddle " 

"Pelhaps  you  find  out,  if  you  have  wisdom!"  Ah 
Fung  concluded.  "Me  make  gleat  laughing  now — 
hee  hee !" 

"For  me,  much  I  have  perspired,"  growled  Jan 
Pieterszoon. 

"Brappa  tinggi  puchok  pisang, 
Tinggi  lagi  asap  api, 
Brappa  tinggi  gunong  me-lentang, 
Tinggi  lagi  harap  hatil" 

chanted  Gamaliel,  until  the  other  drove  him  below 
with  ponderous  curses. 

119 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

8 

And  Ah  Fung  sat  on  the  deck  alone  for  a  while, 
chuckling  to  himself,  turning  over  the  jewels  with 
a  longer  finger  nail,  dividing  them  into  three  little 
heaps  in  the  palm  of  his  hand,  emeralds,  sapphires 
and  diamonds. 

"Iche,  ni,  saw,,  shi  .  .  /'he  murmured,  count- 
ing out  his  treasure,  while  the  elephant  stood  waiting 
by  his  side,  smiling  engagingly  from  ear  to  ear,  as 
at  the  preparation  of  some  high  jest. 

And  only  the  scandalized  and  hurried  moon  saw 
what  else  was  taking  place  on  the  deck  of  the  Felicity 
Belle,  furtively,  and  silently,  and  jealous  eyed.  .  .  . 


120 


CHAPTER  VII 
HOME  IS  THE  SAILOR 

1 

T^1  ELICIT  Y  was  very  pleased  with  the  elephant 
*      when  Gamaliel  brought  it  back  to  her. 

"Ah  Fung  said  it  was  a  Min  Hsing  elephant,"  he 
told  her.  "And  that  it  would  bring  me  luck  if  I 
kept  it  until  it  was  time  to  throw  it  away.  Split  me, 
my  dear,  if  I  know  what  he  meant !" 

"It  must  be  worth  a  great  deal  of  money,  isn't 
it?"  she  asked  frugally,  after  admiring  it. 

"I  don't  know,  my  love,  I'm  sure,"  Gamaliel  re- 
plied. "I  got  it  for  a  song!"  and  he  laughed  to  him- 
self at  the  recollection  of  the  Dutchman's  face  when 
he  had  told  him  the  same  thing,  back  there  in  Par- 
angambalang. 

How  they  had  teased  him  and  scolded  him  after- 
wards, Ah  Fung  and  van  den  Bosch ! 

"Always  you  do  some  foolish  thing,  dwaase," 
121 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Tan  kept  roaring  at  him.  "And  make  me  ber- 
spire !" 

Gamaliel  really  got  very  embarrassed  whenever 
they  reminded  him  of  that  Parangambalang  episode. 

"Oh,  coil  up  your  nonsense,"  he  begged  them. 
"How  was  I  to  know  ?" 

And  then  van  den  Bosch  would  mimic  Maimunah 
to  him  until  he  blushed  behind  his  ears. 

"Nyah-lah  Ismail !  Ho  ho !  A  great  impression 
you  make,  yes,  on  Maimunah.  Berhaps  because  you 
are  not  fat  like  Ismail.  Brobably  she  will  follow  you 
to  Amerika !" 

"Probably  you'll  choke  to  death  one  of  these  days 
telling  that  story,"  Gamaliel  would  scowl  at  him. 

And  then  it  was  Ah  Fung's  turn  to  smile,  and  roll 
his  eyes,  and  make  queer  Chinese  faces  at  Gamaliel. 

"Palangambalang  all  same  Yeddo!  The  lady, 
Hasu  No  Hana,  she  say  omae  wa  suki  da,  I  like  you, 
hee  hee!" 

"Well,  split  me  if  they  don't  go  pretty  well  to- 
gether," insisted  Gamaliel.  "Nyah-lah  Ismail  and 
omae  wa  suki  da.  Like  a  pair  of  sconces !  I  can't 
help  it  if  they  like  me." 

"It  is  because  he  is  such  an  Adonis,"  Jan  Pieters- 
zoon  always  concluded,  which  made  Gamaliel  per- 

122 


HOME  IS  THE  SAILOR 

fectly  furious,  for  he  really  valued  his  good  looks 
about  as  highly  as  a  snarled  up  halliard. 


Gamaliel  was  in  his  thirties  now,  and  little  Mat- 
thew was  growing  up  like  a  bean  stalk  back  there  in 
the  little  house  near  the  Bowling  Green,  but  for  all 
that  he  had  found  it  impossible  to  tear  himself  away 
from  his  enchanted  Orient. 

And  Felicity,  knowing  herself  to  be  a  sailor's 
wife,  saw  that  he  was  ' 'bound  to  go"  as  before.  A 
sailor's  mother,  too,  she  would  be,  and  if  now  she 
had  little  Matthew  with  her  while  Gamaliel  was 
away,  the  day  would  surely  come  when  her  husband 
would  return  to  her — but  then  the  boy  would  go. 

'The  work  was  hard — "  she  would  sing  to  them 
both,  on  those  precious  evenings  between  voyages 
when  she  had  her  two  sailors  with  her 


" — the  voyage  was  long 
The  seas  were  high,  the  gales  were  strong, 
The  sails  are  furled,  our  work  is  done, 
And  now  on  shore  we'll  have  our  fun. 
Leave  her,  Johnnie,  leave  her!" 
123 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

But  when  the  time  for  departure  came,  Gamaliel 
always  found  his  things  neatly  darned  and  pressed, 
his  buttons  secured,  and  his  sea  chests  ready,  with  a 
faint  hint  of  lavender  about  them  to  whisper  to  him 
of  Felicity. 


And  it  was  no  longer  a  question  now  of  the  im- 
pudent Felicity  Belle,  but  of  the  stately  Mandarin 
which  he  had  built  for  himself — a  very  sharp  vessel 
for  her  day,  and  indeed  a  very  wet  one,  modelled 
after  the  slender  lines  of  the  earlier  Baltimore  pri- 
vateers which  he  had  known  so  well. 

She  was  the  pride  of  his  life,  and  in  later  years 
he  would  argue  by  the  hour  with  his  son  about  her. 

"You  and  your  newfangled  clippers!  Take  in 
your  slack,  my  lad.  As  though  there  were  anything 
new  about  them.  Now  look  at  my  old  Mandarin. 
We  didn't  have  any  fancy  names  for  her,  but  I'll 
have  you  remember  she  went  from  New  York  to 
Canton  in  ninety-eight  days,  against  the  Northeast 
monsoon!" 

Van  den  Bosch  welcomed  her  appearance  with 
smiles  of  relief,  for  all  his  doubts  as  to  her  con- 
struction. 

124 


HOME  IS  THE  SAILOR 

"Now  you  have  a  fine  ship,"  he  said.  "But  under 
the  water  she  sails  like  a  fish.  She  will  not  stay 
afloat — her  bows  you  have  turned  inside  out !" 

"Stay  afloat !"  Gamaliel  roared.  "Polish  my 
brasses!  I  don't  have  to  shorten  sail  on  the  Man- 
darin even  when  there's  wind  enough  to  drive  a 
fleet  of  frigates  through  an  ocean  of  treacle !" 

"So?  Well,  now  berhaps  you  try  and  behave 
yourself,  yes?" 

At  which  admonition  Gamaliel  did  nothing  but 
grin,  "all  same  clocodile,"  as  Ah  Fung  remarked. 

"Altnachtig !"  Jan  Pieterszoon  shouted  at  him. 
"Stay  on  your  quarterdeck,  yes  ?  Always  in  trouble 
when  ashore  you  go,  dwaase  jongen!" 

And  indeed  Gamaliel  did  behave  himself,  con- 
scious of  his  dignity  and  increasing  years,  very  much 
the  American  merchant  navigator,  in  his  pongee  suit 
and  his  white  hat,  going  about  in  his  gig  with  the 
spotlessly  clad  Chinese  crew.  The  honored  guest  of 
Mandarins  in  their  palaces,  calling  in  stately  fashion 
at  the  go-downs  of  prominent  merchants,  known 
from  one  end  of  the  Orient  to  the  other,  a  welcome 
figure  in  every  hong,  foremost  among  the  fankwae 
friends  of  the  great  Houqua  at  Canton,  famous  for 
the  lavishness  of  his  entertainments  and  firework 

125 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

displays   in   honor   of   visiting   taipans   and   port 
officials. 


But  of  course  there  had  to  be  an  end  to  it  all  some 
time.  Came  the  day  when  he  found  himself  gazing 
absent-mindedly  at  Ah  Fung  and  the  Dutchman 
in  the  shadowy  hong,  listening  for  the  sound  of  Fe- 
licity's laughter,  longing  for  the  feel  of  his  boy's 
shoulder  under  his  hand. 

The  others  were  deep  in  discussion,  and  for  a  long 
time  they  spoke,  under  the  swinging  punkahs,  in  a 
fragrant  cloud  of  cheroot  smoke,  while  Ah  Fung 
nodded  wisely  over  the  Dutchman's  vituperations 
against  the  piratical  depredations  of  Malay  perum- 
paks,  the  constant  encroaching  by  the  British,  and  by 
the  verdaamte  Americans  too,  upon  a  trade  which 
had  once  been  profitable,  and  the  passing  of  better 
days. 

"There  is  no  more  brivacy  in  the  Orient !  Every 
beddlar  who  can  find  a  ship  comes  here  for  perkara 
now." 

"It  is  plogless,"  sighed  Ah  Fung. 

"The  day  comes,  I  tell  you,  yes,  when  China  will 
be  filled  with  Europeans.    The  borts  they  will  oc- 

126 


HOME  IS  THE  SAILOR 

cupy,  yes,  and  themselves  make  at  home,  as  in  Liver- 
pool, and  Hamburg,  and  Rotterdam." 

"That  would  be  one  vely  disagleable  thing,"  pro- 
tested the  Chinaman.  "But  it  will  not  be  so,  my 
fliend.  China  him  too  big,  him  too  far  away,  him 
too  old    .    .    ." 

"Heusch!  Far  away,  you  say?  Does  not  the 
jongen  here,  with  his  Mandarin,  come  from  New 
York  to  Canton  in  less  than  one  hundred  days  ?  It 
may  be  in  time  faster  they  come.  It  is  the  Ameri- 
kans  who  make  the  speed,  like  pangamuks  they  sail, 
yes." 

"Too  gleat  a  speed  lead  to  destluction,"  opined 
Ah  Fung.    "Faster  they  will  not  come." 

"Het  is  mogelijk — Heisa!  About  the  East  India 
Company  you  hear,  yes  ?" 

"Honolable  John  Company  him  no  longer,"  smiled 
Ah  Fung. 

"Two  years  ago,  yes.  It  is  because  they  do  not 
come  fast  enough.  Their  ships  they  sell,  the 
Canning,  the  Earl  of  Balcarras — in  Calcutta  I  see 
her  once." 

"They  bling  money?" 

"Yay  big  brices.  The  Bombay,  twelve  hundred 
tons  she  is  and  twenty-two  years  old,  eleven  thousand 

127 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

bounds  she  bring.  Baik,  it  was  a  fine  fleet,  but  too 
slow  they  run,  and  take  in  sail  at  night.  The  jongen, 
he  does  not  do  that !" 

"And  now  tlade  him  open  in  Olient,"  smiled  Ah 
Fung  again.  "But  with  Jihpun-Kwoh  not  making. 
Him  lemain  closed  folever." 

"Berhaps,"  mused  the  Dutchman.  "Berhaps  not. 
I  am  not  surprised  if  the  day  comes  when  the  S  ho  gun 
makes  treaty  for  perkara!  And  I  say  to  you,  it  will 
be  the  Amerikans  I" 

"Shogun  make  him  pelkala  tleaty  with  Amelica!" 
exclaimed  Ah  Fung.  "You  dleam  him  funny  dleams, 
my  fliend    .    .    ." 

5 

Gamaliel  pushed  his  chair  back  suddenly  and 
leaned  forward,  and  the  other  two  turned  to  him. 

"What  is  it,  jongen?" 

"Him  spilit  make  him  journey  to  Amelica," 
breathed  Ah  Fung.    "Him  follow  soon,  yes,  no  ?" 

"I  am  going  home,"  he  told  them.  "I'm  getting 
too  old  for  this  sort  of  thing.  I  must  go  ashore  and 
settle  down.    You  understand  how  it  is." 

"Ya,  I  know,"  sighed  Jan  Pieterszoon.  "To  Am- 
sterdam some  day  I  go  too,  berhaps." 

128 


HOME  IS  THE  SAILOR 

"A  day  comes  for  meeting,  and  then  a  day  for 
palting,"  murmured  Ah  Fung.  "In  memoly  you 
will  live  with  us,  my  fliend." 

"Some  day  soon  I'll  send  my  son,"  smiled  Gama- 
liel.   "Try  and  keep  him  out  of  trouble." 

"If  son  all  same  father,  it  will  not  be  easy,  but 
him  seeing  we  will  think  it  is  you.  You  keep  him 
elephant?" 

"Of  course " 

"Lemember,  gleat  luck  he  will  bling  if  keep- 
ing until  time  to  bleak  and  thlow  away,  gleat 
luck  to  you,  and  to  son  if  giving  to  him.  It 
is  a  Chinese  liddle!  The  Gods  pleserve  you,  my 
fliend." 

"Hsie  hsie  ni,  thank  you,  Ah  Fung,  goodbye — 
goodbye,  Jan.    .    .    ." 

"Goodbye,  jongen,  salaatnat  jalan,  voyage  in 
safety!" 

"Thank  you,  aleihi  as  salam.    .    .    ." 

The  next  day  the  Mandarin  swept  past  the  Oost 
Indie,  dipping  her  colors,  while  Gamaliel  waved  a 
last  farewell  to  the  two  standing  on  her  quarterdeck. 
In  his  hand  he  held  the  letter  which  the  Dutchman 
had  given  to  him  privately  a  little  while  before.  A 
curious  letter    .    .    . 

9  129 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Jongen"  it  said,  "Before  Ah  Fung  I  did  not  dare 
tell  you,  because  it  was  a  gift  from  him,  and  to  of- 
fend I  do  not  wish.  Heusch!  Neither  do  I  believe, 
but  perhaps  it  is  better  I  tell  you  now. 

"To  Parangambalang  I  have  been,  and  saw  Maimu- 
nah  once  more,  yes,  and  she  said  many  things.  About 
the  elephant,  the  blue  porcelain  elephant.  She  says  in 
her  father's  compound  she  hears  many  things  that  time, 
before  we  sail,  after  you  had  been  on  the  junk,  like 
a  dwaase. 

"In  the  jungle  there  were  many  eyes,  and  on  the 
river.  There  is  danger,  it  has  to  do  with  the  elephant, 
I  do  not  know  what,  and  Maimunah  she  can  not  tell. 

"The  Malayu  they  are  all  superstitious,  yes,  from 
hantus  they  are  always  in  fear.  Perhaps  it  is  that 
the  fat  Ismail  has  placed  a  curse  upon  the  elephant, 
I  do  not  know. 

"But  Maimunah  she  says,  'Say  to  Tuan  Parsons, 
beware.  Bad  luck  it  will  bring.  Three  times  the  ele- 
phant has  been  stolen,  the  fourth  time  will  be  the  last. 
Eyes  there  were  in  the  night,  and  a  tongue  that  chat- 
tered of  strange  things.  Beware  of  the  blue  elephant 
who  laughs,  for  he  has  swallowed  evil !' 

"So !  What  she  means  I  do  not  know,  perhaps  the 
elephant  is  hantu,  perhaps  it  is  a  Malayu  prophecy. 
But  Ah  Fung  he  has  said  great  luck  it  will  bring,  and 
Maimunah  she  says  bad  luck  it  will  bring.  Perhaps  you 
find  out,  Tuan  Parsons ! 

"But  baik-baik,  take  care,  jongen! 
"Your  friend, 
"Jan." 
130 


HOME  IS  THE  SAILOR 

"Now,  what's  this  nonsense  all  uncoiled !"  Gama- 
liel said  to  himself.  "Maimunah !  I  had  forgotten 
her.  I  don't  know  what  they  mean,  either  of  th-oi 
— Ah  Fung  and  his  riddles,  and  Maimunah  with  her 
prophecies.  Perhaps  Jan  is  simply  trying  to  make  an 
acrobat  out  of  me,  pickle  his  eyes !" 

He  rumpled  up  the  letter  and  threw  it  overboard, 
and  stood  gazing  astern  at  the  sinking  shore  line,  the 
green  pagodaed  horizon  of  his  adventurous  years. 

"Tid  re  id  re  I  do!"  he  hummed. 

Homeward  bound    .    .    . 

".    .    .  we're  homeward  bound  you've  heard  us  say, 
Goodbye,  fare  ye  well, 
Goodbye,  fare  ye  well, 

Hook  on  the  cat  fall  then  and  run  her  away,    • 
Hurrah,  my  lads,  we're  homeward  bound    .    .    ." 


131 


PART  TWO 

c.    .    .  my  flash  man  he's  a  Yankee, 

With  his  hair  cut  short  behind, 

He  wears  a  tarry  jumper, 

And  he  sails  in  the  Black  Ball  Line.  .  .  ." 

'.  .  .  and  when  you  hear  that  Fve  gone  bust, 
Susanna  don't  you  cry ! 

Oh,  Susanna, 

Don't  you  cry  for  me, 

I'm  off  for  California 

With  my  wash  bowl  on  my  knee.    .    .    . 


133 


CHAPTER  I 

HOT  CORN  AND  PACKETS 

1 

QUCH,  with  its  blue  laughing  elephants,  and  black 
^  lacquer  boxes,  and  smiling  tales  of  a  Chinaman 
and  a  Dutchman  sitting  in  a  shadowy  hong,  was  little 
Matthew's  heritage.  Two  grandsires,  ship  owners 
and  builders,  partners  in  the  firm  of  Parsons  and 
Moore,  and  the  great  Gamaliel  for  a  father,  home  at 
last  from  the  sea,  looking  not  so  very  much  older 
than  when  he  had  sailed  away  the  first  time  in  the 
Felicity  Belle.  And  himself  born  on  a  ship,  three 
days  Northwest  of  the  Horn. 

A  heritage  of  blue  water  tradition  and  lore  which 
filled  his  whole  being,  and  sang  to  him  of  rolling 
oceans,  like  the  sea  shells  on  the  mantelpiece  when 
he  held  them  to  his  ear. 

".    .    .  but  if  it  be  a  lad  he  shall  be  one  of  the  crew, 
He  shall  walk  the  quarterdeck  as  a  sailor  bold  and 

true, 
And  fight  for  home  and  country  as  his  daddy  used 
to  do!" 

135 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

For  his  other  heritage  Matthew  cared  very  little 
indeed.  His  heritage  of  extraordinary  good  looks 
which  were  to  earn  for  him  his  nickname  of  Hand- 
some Mat.  His  dark  curly  hair  and  flashing  brown 
eyes,  a  gift  from  his  beautiful  mother,  and  the  sturdy 
shapeliness  of  his  growing  figure,  so  reminiscent 
already  of  his  father,  were  of  infinitely  less  concern 
to  him  than — than  the  itinerant  venders  in  the  street 
for  instance ! 

Bundles  of  straw  for  mattresses,  and  door  mats 
made  of  rope,  the  sand  men  in  long  white  coats 
trundling  their  two  wheeled  carts,  and  delectable 
things  to  eat — baked  pears  floating  in  molasses,  and 
the  hot  corn  on  the  cob. 

A  pail  full  on  the  street  corners,  presided  over  by 
a  colored  woman  wearing  a  bright  bandanna  hand- 
kerchief with  the  ends  hanging  down,  and  the  butter 
and  salt  in  cups,  one  on  each  side  of  her.  You  could 
hear  her  for  blocks  when  she  cried  her  wares. 

"Hot  co'n,  hot  co'n ! 
Heah's  yo'  lily  white  hot  co'n! 
Some  fo'  a  penny,  an'  some  fo'  tew  cents — 
Heah's  yo'  lily  white  hot  co'n!" 

These  matters  were  of  far  more  importance  than 
the  fact  that  he  bore  himself  gracefully,  or  that  his 

136 


HOT  CORN  AND  PACKETS 

smile  was  like  a  ray  of  sunshine — a  foolish  delusion 
of  his  mother's,  productive  of  black  eyes  among 
contemporaries  who  rashly  ventured  to  repeat  this 
slander. 

But  when  it  came  to  the  seas,  and  the  ships  that 
sailed  on  them,  that  was  another  thing  again,  and 
they  filled  all  his  mind  and  heart. 


And  while  his  father  thought  wistfully  of  his 
privateering  days,  and  occupied  himself  with  swift, 
sharp,  China  bound  vessels,  with  Matthew  it  was  a 
question  of  packets,  and  the  dangers  and  glories  of 
the  Transatlantic  Passage. 

Gamaliel  might  talk  of  the  opium  clippers,  the 
Zephyr,  the  Ariel,  or  the  Antelope,  and  of  their 
British  forerunners,  such  as  the  Sylph,  and  the 
Jamesina  with  her  three  hundred  thousand  pounds 
worth  of  opium  cargo  from  India  disposed  of  at 
Ningpo  and  Amoy. 

Or  he  might  vituperate  on  the  subject  of  the  extra- 
ordinary Ann  McKim  from  Baltimore,  with  her  tre- 
mendous dead  rise  amidship,  and  her  convex  water 
lines,  low  free  board,  and  raking  stern  and  masts. 

".  .  .  split  me,  she's  copper  sheathed  and  fastened 
137 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

throughout,  and  finished  in  Spanish  mahogany. 
Carries  twelve  brass  guns!  Entirely  too  elaborate, 
and  much  too  expensive.  .  ."  Of  course  in  those 
days  Gamaliel  had  not  started  to  build  the  Golden 
Fleece  for  his  son ! 

But  as  far  as  Matthew  was  concerned  it  was  al- 
ways packets,  from  dawn  to  sunset  gun. 

They  were  the  latest  venture  in  American  ship- 
ping, these  packets — the  Black  Ball  line  had  only 
been  started  five  years  before  Matthew  was  born — 
and  it  seemed  to  him  that  nothing  more  magnificent 
had  ever  before  been  devised  in  the  maritime  world. 
And  where  other  boys  of  his  generation  were  eagerly 
following  the  gossip  of  the  Fire  Companies  gathered 
in  Mr.  Venn's  Porterhouse  Saloon  on  Ann  Street, 
or  the  horse  racing  news  which  abounded  up  at  the 
Hazzard  House  on  the  Yorkville  Hill,  Matthew  was 
an  authority  on  every  detail  pertaining  to  these  other 
racers  of  his  day,  and  to  the  records  of  their  runs. 

To  begin  with,  from  the  very  first  with  all  the 
fervor  of  youthful  patriotism,  he  had  known  that 
any  Yankee  ship  could  sail  patterns  around  the  In- 
diamen  of  the  "Honorable  John  Company,"  for  all 
their  bunt  jiggers,  and  gammon  lashings,  and  cat 
harpings. 

138 


HOT  CORN  AND  PACKETS 

"Oh,  she's  lovely  up  aloft, 
And  she's  lovely  down  below, 
Oh,  run,  let  the  bullgine  run ! 
Way  ya  ah  ah  oh  oh, 
Run,  let  the  bullgine  run.    .    .     ." 

That  fact  once  thoroughly  established,  Matthew 
would  begin  to  recite  the  history  of  the  Black  Ball 
line  from  bow  to  stern. 

"In  1816,  Mr.  Isaac  Wright,  Mr.  Benjamin  Mar- 
shall, Mr.  Jeremiah  Thompson,  and  my  grand-daddy 
Moore,  established  the  Black  Ball  Line  from  New 
York  to  Liverpool." 

"That's  right,  Matthew.  And  what  were  some  of 
their  ships  ?" 

"Their  first  ships  were  the  Amity,  the  Courier, 
the  Pacific,  and  the  James  Monroe/' 

"Correct " 

"Then  came  the  New  York,  the  Orbit,  the  Nestor, 
the  James  Cropper,  the  Canada,  the  Columbia  .  .  ." 

"Save  us,  child,  that's  enough!" 

"The  fastest  passage  during  the  first  ten  years 
of  the  Line  was  made  by  the  Canada  in  fifteen  days 
and  eighteen  hours  .  .  ."  and  so  on  and  so  on, 
as  long  as  anyone  cared  to  listen  to  him ! 

Of  course  these  earlier  packets  were  a  little  before 
his  time.    Those  first  Black  Bailers,  the  Amity,  the 

139 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Pacific,  the  Canada,  and  their  sisters,  four  or  five 
hundred  ton  vessels  with  flush  decks,  the  long  boat 
housed  over  to  carry  the  sheep,  and  the  geese,  and 
the  hens,  and  the  cow  house  over  the  main  hatch. 
Black  hulls  with  varnished  bends,  and  the  insides  of 
rails  and  hatch  covers  finished  in  green. 

The  Red  Star  Liverpool  packets  too,  the  Grinnell 
and  Minturn  Swallow  Tail  Line,  and  the  London 
and  Havre  packets  of  the  early  Twenties  were  a  little 
too  much  for  him  to  keep  track  of,  although  he  knew 
the  names  of  most  of  the  ships. 

And  when  it  came  to  house  flags,  they  were  much 
dearer  to  him  than  the  multiplication  table,  and  there 
was  not  a  varied  swallow-tail  whose  firm  name  he 
could  not  tell  as  fast  as  they  were  broken  out. 

".  .  .the  red  swallowtail  with  the  black  X  in 
the  center,  that's  Mr.  Griswold's  Line — a  blue  swal- 
lowtail and  a  red  star,  she's  a  Kermit  Liverpool 
packet — red,  white  and  blue,  that's  a  Grinnell  and 
Minturn — there's  a  Union  Liner  for  Havre,  see, 
black  U  on  a  white  field    .    .    ." 

"And  what's  the  red,  white  and  blue  horizon- 
tal  " 

"That's  Parsons  and  Moore!  Hurrah!  From 
Hong  Kong  to  Cape  Town,  if  it's  Moore  it's  sure !" 

140 


HOT  CORN  AND  PACKETS 

"I  declare,  I'd  admire  to  have  you  know  the  names 
of  the  Presidents  of  the  United  States  as  well!" 
Felicity  would  smile. 


But  in  the  Thirties,  when  Matthew  was  growing 
up  to  be  ten,  and  twelve,  and  fifteen  years  old,  there 
was  not  a  question  having  to  do  with  packets,  their 
appearance,  their  records,  and  their  commanders, 
which  he  was  not  prepared  to  discuss,  or  which  he 
did  not  actually  discuss  upon  the  slightest  provoca- 
tion. 

The  ships  of  the  new  line  to  New  Orleans  in  1831, 
the  first  packets  to  be  built  in  accordance  with  the 
new  full  poop  deck  specifications,  and  the  others  of 
that  third  line  to  Havre — of  which  the  Isaac  Bell 
under  Captain  Johnston  made  the  voyage  from 
Havre  to  New  York  in  January  in  less  than  eighteen 
days. 

"And  in  January  too!"  Matthew  would  marvel. 
"I  calculate  that's  the  worst  month  on  the  Atlantic 
if  you're  west  bound." 

"Don't  say  calculate,  Matthew,  it's  not  well 
bred    .    .    ."    Felicity  would  attempt  remonstrance. 

141 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Well,  pickle  me,  Mother,"  the  boy  would  say, 
just  like  his  father.  "You're  always  talking  about 
crowding  on  sail.,, 

Then  that  new  concern  running  to  Liverpool,  the 
Dramatic  Line,  carrying  a  big  black  X  on  their  fore- 
topsails,  as  though  that  could  get  them  across  any 
faster  than  a  Black  Bailer.  It  was  simply  an  imi- 
tation of  the  large  black  ball  just  below  the  latter's 
foretopsail  close  reef  bands  anyway. 

"Copy  cat,  copy  cat    .    .    ." 

The  Siddons,  the  Garrick,  the  Roscius,  the  Sheri- 
dan who  got  herself  properly  beaten  in  a  race  with 
Captain  De  Peyster's  Black  Bailer  Columbus,  for  a 
wager  of  ten  thousand  dollars,  play  or  pay. 

"Nearly  nine  hundred  tons  she  is,"  Matthew 
gloated.  "And  the  Columbus  is  not  six  hundred. 
And  she  carried  a  crew  of  forty  on  purpose  to  win 
the  race,  and  the  old  Black  Bailer  beat  her  by  two 
days,  sixteen  to  eighteen!" 

Whereupon  he  executed  a  strange  nautical  jig, 
to  the  tune  of  The  Black  Ball  Line 

"For  once  there  was  a  Black  Ball  ship, 
Hurrah  for  the  Black  Ball  Line ! 
That  thirteen  knots  an  hour  could  clip, 
Hurrah  for  the  Black  Ball  Line! 
142 


HOT  CORN  AND  PACKETS 

The  Black  Ball  ships  are  good  and  true, 
Hurrah  for  the  Black  Ball  Line! 
They  are  the  ships  for  mte  and  you, 
Hurrah  for  the  Black  Ball  Line.    .    .    . 


"Belay  there,  Matthew!  I  wouldn't  bother  to 
sing  all  the  verses  if  I  were  you,"  his  father  sug- 
gested. 

Then  there  were  the  new  ships  of  the  Swallow  Tail 
Line,  such  as  the  Washington,  and  the  Pennsylvania, 
and  the  Independence,  commanded  by  Captain  Ezra 
Nye,  who  for  several  years  sailed  on  the  sixth  of 
March  so  that  she  might  carry  the  President's  Mes- 
sage over  to  England. 

"I  know  she  can  do  New  York  to  Liverpool  in 
fourteen  days,"  Matthew  used  to  admit.  "But  the 
President's  Message  ought  to  go  over  on  the  Black 
Ball  Line,  that's  what!" 

And  then  lastly,  but  only  because  they  were  the 
finest  of  all  in  Matthew's  estimation,  the  more  re- 
cent Black  Bailers  themselves,  forerunners  of  the 
great  packets  of  his  early  manhood,  the  Fidelio,  the 
thousand  ton  Montezuma,  the  Yorkshire,  holder 
under  Captain  Bailey  of  the  record  west  bound 
Atlantic  passage  of  sixteen  days. 

143 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Split  me,  Daddy,  but  they  are  the  sweetest  ships 
afloat    .    .    ." 


And  fine,  presentable  vessels  they  were,  these 
later  packets,  with  their  painted  ports  and  white 
finishing,  carrying  all  the  sail  that  could  be  handled 
in  the  winter  gales,  and  a  little  more  besides.  Square 
lower,  topmast,  and  topgallant  studdingsails,  sky- 
sails  set  on  sliding  gunter  masts — Matthew  knew  all 
about  that — three  reefs  in  the  topsails  and  single 
reefs  in  the  topgallantsails,  and  let  her  go,  with  the 
Yankee  flag  at  the  gaff,  through  ice  and  fog  and 
snow  and  gale,  across  the  Atlantic  in  all  its  moods. 

To  Liverpool  and  back,  month  in  and  month  out, 
in  all  seasons  and  through  all  weathers,  bearing 
passengers  and  mails,  for  many  years  the  only  link 
between  the  New  World  and  the  Old. 

And  always  at  top  speed.  Plenty  of  sail  and 
never  a  let  up,  day  or  night,  racing  hammer  and 
tongs  every  inch  of  the  way,  ceaselessly  and  relent- 
lessly, up  to  the  knight  heads  in  rolling  seas.  Racing 
each  other,  racing  the  Britishers,  racing  against 
time.  The  only  things  they  did  not  race  were  the 
wallowing  steam  boat   "tea  kettles' ' — they  simply 

144 


HOT  CORN  AND  PACKETS 

overhauled  them  and  left  them  far  astern  with  a 
derisive  cheer. 

Under  the  command  of  men  who  were  numbered 
among  the  finest  navigators  afloat,  possessed  of  un- 
bounded physical  endurance  to  withstand  the  days 
and  nights  on  end  of  duty  on  the  deck  required  of 
them ;  and  accustomed  to  the  niceties  of  good  breed- 
ing which  must  be  theirs  in  their  dealings  with  the 
ladies  and  gentlemen  of  quality  who  crowded  their 
luxurious  cabins. 

And  armed  with  the  strength  and  courage  essen- 
tial to  the  proper  handling  of  the  desperate,  ruffianly 
"packet  rats"  who  composed  their  crews. 

".  .   .  there's  Liverpool  Pat  with  his  tarpaulin  hat, 
And  Yankee  John,  the  packet  rat, 
Across  the  Western  Ocean   .   .   ." 

Strong,  thickset,  tattooed,  Waterloo  Road  grog 
shop  sweepings,  villainous  and  depraved.  Good 
sailors  enough,  in  their  red  shirts  and  sea  boots,  up 
aloft  shortening  sail  in  a  howling  blizzard,  but  only 
after  they  had  been  pounded  into  respectful  obedi- 
ence by  the  iron  hand  of  the  Captain,  and  the  "belay- 
ing pin  soup"  of  the  mates. 

It  was  a  very  simple  matter,  usually  settled  on  the 
145 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

first  day  out.  The  mate  who  could  not  "lick  his 
weight  in  wild  cats"  and  establish  his  authority  with 
the  might  of  his  bare  fists,  assisted  by  capstan  bars 
and  handspikes,  had  his  ribs  kicked  in  by  the  crew, 
when  it  was  not  a  question  of  knife  blades  skimming 
through  the  air. 

5 
Singing  sailormen  these  with  it  all,  of  course, 
with  a  chorus  for  every  emergency. 

"Oh,  the  smartest  packet  you  can  find, 

Ah  he,  ah  ho,  are  you  most  done? 

Is  the  fair  New  York  in  the  Black  Ball  Line, 
So  clear  the  track,  let  the  bullgine  run, 
To  my  aye,  rig  a  jig  in  a  low  back  car, 
Ah  he,  ah  ho,  are  you  most  done? 

With  Eliza  Lee  all  on  my  knee, 

So  clear  the  track,  let  the  bullgine  run !" 

Something  like  that  for  the  anchor,  and  then  for 
setting  sail  Haul  the  Bowlin/  and  Whiskey  Johnnie, 
or  Blow  the  Man  Down,  with  its  hint  of  autobio- 
graphical Liverpool  origin — 

"As  I  was  walking  down  Paradise  Street, 
Way  ay,  blow  the  man  down, 
A  saucy  young  p'liceman  I  happened  to  meet, 
Give  me  some  time  to  blow  the  man  down! 

146 


HOT  CORN  AND  PACKETS 

Says  he  you're  a  Black  Bailer  by  the  cut  of  your  hair, 
I  know  you're  a  Black  Bailer  by  the  clothes  that  you 

wear, 
You've  sailed  in  a  packet  that  flies  the  black  ball, 
You've  robbed  some  poor  Dutchman  of  boots,  clothes 

and  all, 
Way  ay,  blow  the  man  down!" 

And  of  course  always  in  honor  of  a  new  cask  of 

salt  beef — 

"Salt  horse,  salt  horse,  both  near  and  far, 
You're  food  for  every  hard  worked  tar, 
In  strongest  brine  you  have  been  sunk, 
Until  as  hard  and  coarse  as  junk — 
To  eat  such  tough  and  wretched  fare 
Would  whiten  even  a  darky's  hair, 
Salt  horse,  salt  horse,  what  brought  you  here?" 

Such  was  the  service,  with  its  ships,  and  its  men, 
and  its  songs,  which  Matthew  entered  when  he  was 
seventeen,  with  his  mind  made  up  to  become  "the 
dandy  mate  of  a  Black  Ball  packet  ..." 


147 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  GOLDEN  HAIRED  GIRL 

1 

1838,  1839,  1840 — Matthew  was  sailing  back  and 
forth  "across  the  Western  Ocean"  with  Captain 
Logan  on  the  Cygnet,  as  "third  blower"  to  begin 
with,  then  as  "greaser"  second  mate,  having  as 
romantic  a  time  of  it  in  his  own  way  and  generation 
as  ever  Gamaliel  had  had  aboard  the  Chaser.  For 
as  a  man  never  forgets  his  first  love,  so  does  a  sailor 
never  find  another  to  equal  his  first  ship. 

"I  am  promoted  greaser !"  he  told  them  at  home. 

"I  was  an  admiral  once,"  Gamaliel  remarked 
reminiscently. 

"Greaser!"  exclaimed  Felicity.  "What  an  ugly 
title !    There  is  no  dignity  on  these  Atlantic  packets." 

"The  Cygnet  is  the  finest  ship  afloat,  ma'am!" 

"There,  there!"  she  laughed.  "If  there  is  need 
of  a  ship  to  take  us  to  salvation  on  the  Judgment 

148 


THE  GOLDEN  HAIRED  GIRL 

Day  it  will  be  a  packet !  And  of  them  all  I  do  not 
doubt  it  will  be  the  Cygnet,  my  love." 

"There  is  no  trade  too  fine  for  her,  that  is 
sure   .   .   ." 

As  for  Captain  Logan,  he  was  enthusiastic  over 
Matthew. 

"He's  a  blower  from  his  teeth  to  his  toe  nails," 
he  would  say  of  him.  "A  smart  lad,  and  clever  too, 
never  an  ugly  word  from  him — but  savage  as  a  meat 
axe  when  there's  trouble  brewing  with  the  crew. 
I  pity  the  packet  rat  who  runs  foul  of  him  when  he's 
curled  up!  I'd  admire  to  have  mates  like  him 
throughout  the  service." 

Felicity  winced  at  this  association  of  her  good 
looking  boy  with  a  meat  axe,  and  yet  privately  she 
was  enormously  proud  of  him  for  holding  his  own 
so  well  among  the  "wild  cats." 

Gamaliel  merely  hummed  to  himself — tid  re  id  re 
I  do.  .  .  . 


And  then  it  was  four  years  later,  and  Matthew 
was  a  "dandy  mate"  on  the  packet  Cygnet — some- 
thing much  finer  than  a  merchant,  or  a  senator,  or 
a  President  of  the  United  States. 

149 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

It  was  Captain  Logan  himself  who  told  him  the 
good  news. 

"Mr.  Parsons,"  he  said.  "I'd  admire  to  have  you 
as  dandy  on  the  next  voyage — Mr.  Rodgers  is  to  take 
command  of  the  Breeze  from  the  West  and  is  leav- 
ing us." 

"I'm  most  grateful  to  you,  Sir.  I'll  try  to  do  my 
duty  in  full  blast." 

"I  am  certain  of  it,  Mat  my  lad.  You  know  what 
I  expect  of  a  first  officer — unless  you'd  prefer  to 
transfer  to  a  newer  packet?" 

"Not  while  the  Atlantic  is  wet,  Sir!"  Matthew 
smiled.  'They  may  come  newer,  but  they  don't 
come  finer  than  the  old  Cygnet!" 

He  went  home  that  evening  and  kissed  his  mother, 
and  threw  out  his  chest  before  Gamaliel. 

"I'll  need  another  braid  to  my  coat,"  he  informed 
them.    "I  am  to  be  dandy  mate  to  Captain  Logan." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad,  and  so  proud  of  my  boy !"  Fe- 
licity beamed  at  him.  "And  it's  such  a  prettier  name 
than  greaser,  I  declare !" 

"Split  me!"  Gamaliel  pretended  to  growl.  "A 
mate's  a  mate,  whatever  name  you  call  him  by.  At 
your  age,  young  sir,  I  was  master  of  my  own  ship, 
and  sailing  blue  water  for  my  own  profit." 

150 


THE  GOLDEN  HAIRED  GIRL 

"You  were  a  veteran  of  the  war,  Sir,  and  found 
the  ways  well  greased !" 

"Pickle  your  eyes !  Greased  indeed !  I  began  as 
mate  the  same  as  you,  with  your  grandfather.  But 
only  for  one  voyage !" 

"Those  were  the  palmy  days,  Sir." 

"Why,  at  your  age,  sir,  I  had  been  four  times 
around  the  Horn!  You  do  nothing  but  sail  in  the 
puddle." 

"I  was  around  the  Horn  before  I  was  a  year  old, 
Sir,"  Matthew  reminded  him.  "I  calculate  at  that 
age  you  had  not  even  sailed  down  the  Bay !" 

"Well,  pickle  me!"  Gamaliel  spluttered,  while 
Felicity  tittered. 

"Times  have  changed,  Sir,"  Matthew  went  on. 
"The  Cygnet  is  nearly  twice  the  size  of  your 
Felicity  Belle.  She  carries  passengers,  Sir,  and 
government  despatches.  On  the  last  voyage  we  had 
the  Governor  of  Massachusetts  aboard,  and  his 
lady." 

"I  have  carried  passengers  too  in  my  day," 
chuckled  Gamaliel.  "And  despatches  also — from  a 
great  Daimyo  in  Yeddo !" 

"You  never  told  me,  Gamaliel!"  Felicity  ex- 
claimed. 

151 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"It  was  nothing,  my  love — some  business  of  Ah 
Fung's    .     .     .    What  were  you  saying,  lad?" 

"I  was  saying  that  to  be  even  a  blower  on  a  packet 
is  no  slight  responsibility.  You  never  shipped  crews 
in  your  time  such  as  we  are  forced  to  handle.  I  shall 
be  one  of  the  youngest  dandies  in  the  service,  Sir !" 

Gamaliel  was  of  course  thoroughly  aware  of  this 
fact,  and  enormously  proud  of  it.  But  he  continued 
to  growl  outwardly,  and  fired  another  broadside  at 
his  strapping  son. 

"Well,  split  me,  sir!"  he  remarked  slyly.  "At 
your  age  I  was  married  to  the  greatest  belle  of  the 
town.  Our  ships  may  not  have  been  so  large,  but  we 
made  better  speed,  sir,  in  my  day.  You  may  ask 
your  charming  mother,  if  you  doubt  it!" 

"Gamaliel,  my  love!"  murmured  Felicity.  "You 
crowd  on  sail  again    .    .    ." 

"You  had  more  time  ashore,"  Matthew  argued. 

"My  voyages  were  longer " 

"Yes — but  you  had  no  regular  service,  Sir.  You 
carried  no  mails,  and  you  cleaned  ship  at  sea " 

"That  is  true!  I  would  not  have  dreamed  of 
bringing  the  Felicity  Belle  into  port  in  the  condition 
in  which  packets  habitually  make  their  wharf !" 

"With  us  it  is  the  other  way,  we  do  all  our  scrap- 
152 


THE  GOLDEN  HAIRED  GIRL 

ing  and  painting  between  voyages.  That  is  why  our 
stay  in  port  is  filled  with  duties — we  have  no  time 
for  courting !" 

"Time!  Time!"  roared  Gamaliel.  "How  much 
time  must  you  have?  I'll  have  you  know  that  I 
courted  your  mother  between  two  ices,  sir,  and  won 
her  over  a  slice  of  pound  cake !" 

"And  married  her  between  two  voyages!"  Fe- 
licity added. 

"Well,  is  it  not  so,  my  love?" 

"You  have  always  admired  to  say  so !"  she  smiled 
at  him,  thinking  of  that  evening  at  Vauxhall.  "I 
suspect  that  the  fireworks  helped  you  through  shoal 
water  .  .  .  Come,  Gamaliel,  do  not  tease  the 
boy!" 

"And  besides,"  Matthew  laughed.  "There  are  no 
belles  today  can  hold  a  taper  to  Mother !" 

"Listen  to  the  rascal!  He  turns  up  his  nose  at 
our  young  ladies.  What  do  you  mean,  sir?  I 
thought  you  had  no  time  ashore " 

"I  have  seen  them  on  the  packets,  belles  from  New 
York,  and  Philadelphia,  and  Boston,  and  soak  me 
if  there  is  one  can  compare  to  Mother !" 

"My  precious — flatterer !" 

"It  is  the  speech  he  makes  to  the  fat  governor's 
153 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

ladies  he  carries,"   chuckled   Gamaliel.      "Do   not 

preen  yourself,  Felicity,  my  dear !" 

"You  hush  or  put,  Gamaliel,  my  love,"  remarked 

Felicity.    "Bring  me  your  coat,  Matthew,  and  I  will 

sew  on  your  braid." 

"I  have  no  braid,  Mother " 

"I  have  some  put  by  for  you,"  she  smiled. 

3 

But  as  a  matter  of  fact,  of  course,  Matthew  was 
enormously  interested  in  the  belles  of  the  day  for 
their  own  sakes,  regardless  of  how  they  might  com- 
pare with  his  beautiful  mother.  And  while  his  stay 
in  port  may  have  been  filled  with  duties  which  kept 
him  close  to  the  waterfront,  still  there  was  always 
time  for  a  stroll,  or  a  bite  of  supper  somewhere,  or 
a  drive  up  the  Bloomingdale  Road,  which  provided 
more  than  adequate  opportunity  to  a  wide  awake, 
discriminating  dandy  for  appreciating  the  feminine 
charms  of  his  generation. 

Under  the  trees  on  the  Battery,  along  the  shaded 
driveways  on  a  fine  afternoon,  or  in  the  City  Hall 
Park  when  they  were  having  illuminations,  as  at  the 
celebration  of  the  admission  of  the  Croton  water 
for  instance,  or  again  at  Mr.  Barnum's  American 

154 


THE  GOLDEN  HAIRED  GIRL 

Museum,  where  Matthew  laughed  with  all  the  rest 
of  the  world  at  the  famous  episode  of  the  back  door. 

"This  way  to  the  egress,  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
this  way  to  the  egress !"  sang  a  boy  in  a  gaudy  uni- 
form, and  the  throng  filed  solemnly  through  the 
door,  expectant  of  some  new  f angled  curiosity — to 
find  themselves  outside  the  building  in  a  side  street ! 

Or  perhaps  it  would  be  at  the  sumptuous  new  Cafe 
des  Mille  Colonnes,  which  Mr.  Pinteaux  had  just 
opened ;  or  more  probably  at  Taylor's,  in  the  glitter- 
ing mirrors  of  whose  restaurant  was  reflected  all  the 
fashionable  elegance  of  the  town,  and  around  whose 
tables  ran  the  gossip  of  nearly  every  tender  romance 
of  the  day. 

And  also  at  Niblo's,  and  the  Castle  Garden  of  an 
evening,  and  at  the  Atlantic  garden  on  Broadway  to 
see  the  fireworks,  or  at  the  play  in  the  Park  Row 
Theatre,  or  the  Olympic  near  Tattersall's. 

And  then  as  Matthew  had  said,  he  saw  them  on 
the  decks  of  the  packets,  the  belles  from  New  York, 
and  from  Philadelphia  and  Boston,  making  the  At- 
lantic voyage. 

4 
For  pleasant  as  it  might  be  on  shore,  and  pardon- 
ably exhilarating  to  watch  them  out  of  the  corner 

155 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

of  his  eye  and  see  them  nudge  each  other  discreetly 
as  Handsome  Mat  passed  by,  still  Matthew  was 
never  really  at  home  except  on  shipboard,  and  it  was 
on  the  Cygnet  that  he  observed  them  fluttering  about 
with  the  greatest  interest. 

Of  course  on  a  sailing  day,  when  the  packet  was 
getting  ready  to  leave  her  slip  in  the  East  River,  or 
warping  out  from  the  tier  in  Liverpool  in  a  compli- 
cated series  of  warps  and  checks,  and  with  much 
anxious  hauling  and  backing,  Matthew  was  entirely 
too  busy  to  pay  any  attention  to  passengers. 


"Run,  let  the  bullgines  run, 
We'll  run! 

Away  to  America, 

Way  aha,  way  aha, 
Way  aha,  way  aha, 
We'll  pump  her  dry- 
And  get  our  grog, 

Run,  let  the  bullgines  run, 

We'll  pump  her  dry 

And  away  we'll  go, 

Away  to  America  .  .  .' 


".    .    .    walk  away  with  it  handsomely,  there — 
vast,  starboard     .     .     .     What  do  you  say?     No, 

156 


THE  GOLDEN  HAIRED  GIRL 

Madam,  I  have  not  seen  your  piano  .  .  .  Let 
loose  those  lines,  there — now  then,  ready  to  haul  in 
sharply " 

In  fact  passengers  were  only  a  tremendous  nui- 
sance at  such  a  time,  getting  in  everybody's  way, 
cluttering  up  the  deck  with  their  bags  and  shawls, 
filling  the  companionways,  and  settling  themselves 
down  in  the  most  dangerous  places  they  could  find. 

"Stand  clear,  there,  stand  clear!  Will  you  step 
aside,  Madam,  they're  hoisting  the  cow  aboard — 
Hands  off  those  halliards,  my  lad — Stand  out  from 
under  that  sling,  there — kindly  step  aft    ..." 

And  forever  asking  preposterous  questions  about 
their  baggage,  and  the  state  of  the  weather,  and  their 
friends,  and  their  precious  offsprings,  who  were  con- 
stantly being  lost  in  the  crowd,  and  requiring  to  be 
rescued  from  precarious  activities  among  the  anchor 
chains. 

".  .  .  blowing  great  guns,  yes,  Sir — probably  be 
a  very  rough  trip." 

"No,  Madam,  quiet  as  a  pond  at  this  time  of  year, 
never  loosen  sheets  from  one  side  to  the  other — No, 
no,  soak  me,  those  ropes  there,  Madam,  not  bed 
sheets!" 

"Split  me  if  that  brat  isn't  getting  ready  to  fall 
157 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

into  the  main  hatch — belay  there,  you  angel's  de- 
light   .    .    ." 

It  was  always  a  scene  of  endless  bedlam  like  that, 
what  with  the  clatter  and  bustle  on  the  deck,  the 
carriages  and  freight  waggons  arriving  all  at  once, 
the  rattle  and  fall  of  tackle,  and  the  surging  throng 
on  board.  Friends  and  relatives  come  to  wish 
godspeed 

"Pass  ashore  if  you're  not  making  the  voyage — 
last  call  for  the  gangplank    .    .    ." 

Parents  searching  frantically  for  their  children, 
trunks  stove  in,  bandboxes  smashed,  ladies  preparing 
to  faint,  little  boys  howling  unintelligibly  and  get- 
ting themselves  stepped  on.  Poultry  squawking  and 
live  stock  bellowing.  And  the  sailors  yo  hoing  and 
singing  in  the  midst  of  it  all  at  the  sails  and  yards, 
while  the  mates  roared  their  orders. 

In  such  an  hour  the  only  attention  Matthew  gave 
to  passengers,  except  to  push  them  out  of  the  way 
of  his  men,  was  when  he  had  to  take  a  gang  aft  to 
help  whip  in  ladies  from  the  tender. 

"Whip  away  there,  handsomely — steady,  steady — 
Now,  lower  away  .  .  ."  and  the  young  lady  would 
come  swinging  in  easily  over  the  rail,  her  little  cries 
of  dismay  and  alarm  hushed  in  a  blushing  smile  as 

158 


THE  GOLDEN  HAIRED  GIRL 

Matthew  gallantly  handed  her  down  to  the  deck. 
Incidentally  he  had  the  reputation  for  always  pick- 
ing out  the  young  and  pretty  ones,  leaving  the  others 
to  the  blowers ! 


But  when  they  were  well  out  beyond  the  Hook, 
or  past  the  Head  of  Kinsale,  and  things  had  settled 
down  to  ordinary  routine,  then  Matthew  would  turn 
with  growing  interest  in  his  spare  time  to  a  closer 
consideration  of  his  passengers.  That  is  to  say,  on 
voyages,  when  the  activities  of  his  crew  did  not  re- 
quire his  constant,  two  fisted  vigilance. 

For  the  occupations  of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen 
of  the  cabin  never  failed  to  divert  him,  with  their 
shawls  and  their  novels,  their  songs  and  games  and 
wagers,  and  their  desperately  nautical  conversation ! 

"How  does  she  head  this  morning,  Sir?" 

".  .  .  she's  knocked  off  twenty  degrees  of  east- 
ing, according  to  my  reckoning.' ' 

"Well,  but  in  the  last  two  days  up  to  meridian 
we  have  run  eight  degrees  of  longitude  and  one  of 
latitude    .    .    ." 

Yes,  indeed — shiver  my  timbers ! 
159 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

And  such  a  time  of  it  they  had  on  deck,  in 
pleasant  weather,  playing  shuffleboard,  and  chess, 
and  backgammon,  or  shooting  at  bottles  suspended 
from  the  ends  of  spars.  Or  else  arguing  heatedly 
over  the  run,  with  endless  bets  on  the  length  of  the 
voyage,  a  perfect  stock  exchange  of  bulls  and  bears, 
depending  on  the  rise  and  fall  of  winds ! 

And  then  rushing  to  the  rail  to  identify  an  ap- 
proaching vessel 

"It's  the  Meteor!" 

"No,  the  Meteor  has  a  red  stripe " 

"She  looks  more  like  the  Stafford,  from  the  cut 
of  her  sails    .    .    ." 

Until  the  vessel  in  question  turned  out  to  be  the 
Cheshire,  and  perhaps  a  package  of  mail  to  be  thrown 
over  to  her — or  into  the  sea  by  mishap ! 

Then  the  meals!  The  Yankee  packets  were 
famous  for  their  table,  and  it  seemed  to  Matthew 
that  beginning  with  the  first  rising  hand  bell  the 
passengers  did  nothing  but  eat  all  day. 

"Steward — steward !  A  pint  of  Saratoga  water !" 
would  be  the  cry  from  every  latticed  cabin  door, 
ranged  on  both  sides  of  the  main  cabin,  and  then  in 
a  short  while  they  would  begin  to  gather  for  break- 
fast. 

160 


THE  GOLDEN  HAIRED  GIRL 

"Ah!  And  what  have  we  today ?"  they  would 
clamor  when  the  bell  rang. 

Well,  there  were  mutton  chops,  and  Virginia  ham, 
and  spitch  cock,  butter  and  rolls  and  eggs  in  all 
varieties,  souchong  tea  if  one  preferred  it,  and  excel- 
lent cognac  or  schiedam  for  those  who  wished  it. 

And  for  lunch  there  was  the  same  profusion  again, 
to  say  nothing  of  biscuits  and  sherry  in  between 
times,  and  at  dinner  three  solid  courses,  with  pastries 
and  jam,  and  dried  fruits  for  dessert.  And  wines 
of  course — although  the  officers  seldom  used  them — 
madeira,  hock,  claret,  port,  and  at  least  three  or  four 
times  a  week  well  iced  champagne. 

It  must  be  said  that  the  pinery  was  neglected — 
and  there  were  no  finger  bowls,  which  was  a  con- 
stant source  of  annoyance  to  those  who  were  not 
accustomed  to  dine  without  them. 

It  was  always  a  very  brilliant  scene  at  the  great 
polished  mahogany  Captain's  table  with  the  raised 
edge — in  case  the  dishes  should  take  a  sliding — in 
the  spacious  cabin,  some  forty  feet  long,  panelled  in 
mahogany  inlaid  with  dark  spotted  maple,  with  its 
mirrors,  and  thick  carpets,  and  richly  upholstered 
furniture. 

And  then  dinner  over  at  last,  the  gentlemen  would 
"  161 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

join  the  ladies  in  their  own  boudoir,  just  forward  of 
the  main  cabin,  for  whist  and  ecarte,  or  dumb 
crambo,  and  quite  possibly  a  little  discreet  flirting. 

This  was  another  room  Matthew  was  very  proud 
of,  all  white  and  gold  with  arabesqued  columns, 
fitted  with  comfortable  sofas  and  nooks,  and  a  low 
table  or  two,  and  embellished  with  an  elegant  baro- 
meter, a  gilt  timepiece  representing  two  dolphins 
with  their  tails  gracefully  interwined,  and  a  beau- 
tiful painting  in  oil  of  the  Canada  under  full  sail  in 
the  Channel. 

6 

There  was  a  pianoforte  in  this  cabin,  and  usually 
one  of  the  young  ladies  could  be  prevailed  upon  to 
sing  for  the  entertainment  of  the  company.  Only 
they  almost  invariably  chose  depressing  songs,  it 
seemed  to  Matthew,  Peaceful  Slumber  for  in- 
stance  

"Peaceful  slumbering  on  the  ocean, 
Seamen  fear  no  danger  nigh, 
The  wind  and  waves  in  gentle  motion, 
Soothe  them  with  their  lullaby. 
Is  the  wind  tempestuous  blowing  ? 
Still  no  dangers  they  descry, 
The  guileless  heart,  its  boon  bestowing, 

Soothes  them  with  its  lullaby " 

162 


THE  GOLDEN  HAIRED  GIRL 

which  was  not  so  bad  perhaps,  except  that  he  had 
his  doubts  about  the  seaman's  guileless  heart,  but 
more  often  for  some  reason  they  selected  The  Pilot, 
which  he  could  not  abide ! 

"Oh,  Pilot,  'tis  a  fearful  night, 
There's  danger  in  the  deep, 
I'll  come  and  pace  the  deck  with  thee, 
I  do  not  dare  to  sleep — 
Go  down,  the  sailor  cried,  go  down, 
This  is  no  place  for  thee, 

Fear  not,  but  trust  in  Providence, 
Wherever  thou  may'st  be!" 

Matthew  very  much  preferred  it  when  on  a  calm 
evening  they  gathered  on  the  deck  to  sing  rounds. 
Afar  o'er  the  meadow,  brake  and  brook 

"O'er  hedges  we  leap, 
Through  the  wild  forest  sweep, 
Halloo,  halloo,  halloo    .    .    ." 

and  Come  follow,  follow — White  sand  and  grey 
sand — Bime  borne  bell,  then  perhaps  My  dame  had 
a  lame  tame  crane,  or  A  boat,  a  boat 

"A  boat,  a  boat  to  cross  the  ferry, 
For  we  are  going  to  be  merry, 
To  laugh  and  quaff, 
And  drink  good  sherry    .    .    ." 
163 


OH,  SUSANNA! 
Finishing  always  of  course  with 


"Go  to  Jane  Glover, 
And  tell  her  I  love  her, 
And  by  the  light  of  the  moon — 
I  will  come  to  her." 

And  then  a  Giant's  Sneeze — Russia,  Prussia,  Aus- 
tria, Glasgow! 

After  which  the  ladies  would  retire  to  the  privacy 
of  their  own  bird's  eye  maple  cabins,  to  the  attrac- 
tions of  the  chests  of  drawers  with  the  cut  glass 
handles,  while  the  gentlemen  smoked  a  last  cigar, 
over  a  tumbler  of  weak  Holland's  grog  "swizzle." 

"Four  bells — and  all's  well    .    .    .*' 

"Four  bells,  Sir " 

Ding-ding,  ding-ding. 

7 
And  so  what  with  one  thing  and  another,  between 
the  time  that  he  whipped  them  in  on  sailing  day  and 
the  moment  when  the  passengers  gathered  alongside 
at  the  end  of  the  voyage  to  give  three  cheers  for 
"the  Old  Lady,"  one  might  have  expected  that  Mat- 
thew would  fall  in  love  with  some  of  the  belles,  at 
least  once  a  trip.    But  he  never  did. 

164 


THE  GOLDEN  HAIRED  GIRL 

Instead,  he  fell  in  love  with  a  golden  haired  girl 
in  the  steerage. 

It  all  happened  very  unexpectedly,  on  the  last 
night  out  from  New  York,  at  the  conclusion  of  a 
voyage  during  which  Matthew  had  been  kept  sleep- 
lessly  at  work  pounding  obedience  into  a  sullenly 
mutinous  crew,  so  that  he  had  had  no  time  whatever 
for  other  distractions. 

They  had  experienced  very  rough  weather  and 
head  winds  all  the  way  over,  and  had  split  two  top- 
sails and  carried  away  the  main  and  mizzen  topgal- 
lantmasts  which  they  had  been  obliged  to  send  up, 
and  trouble  had  started  at  once  with  the  crew,  with 
the  resultant  generous  distribution  of  "belaying  pin 
soup"  and  "handspike  hash"  on  the  part  of  Matthew 
and  his  blowers  and  boatswain. 

"Blow  them  to  kingdom  come,  my  lad,"  he  advised 
a  young  third  mate  making  his  maiden  trip.  "It's 
your  life  or  theirs,  and  no  shilly  shally.  If  any  red 
shirted,  tattooed  son  of  a  sea  horse  lifts  a  finger  ex- 
cept to  earn  his  pay,  spread  him  out  on  the  deck  and 
make  a  carpet  of  him !" 

It  was  brutal  perhaps,  but  it  was  the  only  way  to 
handle  a  shipload  of  treacherous  dock  rats  whose 
only  code  of  ethics  was  that  knives  must  not  be 

165 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

drawn  against  a  shipmate.  Steal  the  shirt  off 
his  back,  rifle  his  sea  chest,  batter  him  with 
fists  and  stamp  on  his  face  with  boots,  but  keep 
the  knife  for  the  officers  when  their  backs  were 
turned ! 

"Treat  them  square  and  above  board,"  Captain 
Logan  used  to  say.  "Feed  them  properly  and 
give  them  their  rest.  But  when  it  comes  to 
discipline,  handle  them  stricter  than  a  jail's  pad- 
lock !" 

And  on  this  voyage  it  was  not  only  the  crew  who 
gave  trouble,  but  the  steerage  passengers  also.  The 
state  of  the  weather  and  the  heavy  seas  had  made 
it  necessary  to  batten  down  hatches  almost  at  once, 
and  inside  of  two  days  there  was  mutiny  brewing 
among  the  tougher  element  in  the  steerage.  And 
in  the  matter  of  toughness  there  was  very  little 
to  choose  between  the  steerage  and  the  crew  of 
course. 

Matthew  promptly  attended  to  that  himself — 
with  a  handspike. 

He  descended  into  the  between  decks  alone,  and 
plowed  his  way  back  and  forth  through  that  ill  smell- 
ing compartment,  encouraging  the  patient  ones  with 
his  cheerful  optimism  and  good  nature,  and  dissuad- 

166 


THE  GOLDEN  HAIRED  GIRL 

ing  the  ugly  customers  with  his  no  less  cheerful 
readiness  to  beat  them  to  a  pulp.  To  say  nothing  of 
his  relentlessly  efficient  ability  to  do  so,  samples  of 
which  he  displayed  to  all  comers,  with  an  earnest 
invitation  to  return  for  more  unless  they  were  pre- 
pared to  "hush  or  put." 

"I  know  it's  unpleasant,"  he  told  them.  "But  I 
reckon  most  of  you  understand  it's  done  for  your 
safety.  Maybe  some  of  you  would  prefer  to  be  up 
aloft  hanging  on  to  a  yard  by  your  teeth — if  so, 
step  forward,  I  can  use  you!" 

There  were  no  volunteers. 

".  .  .  if  you  have  any  legitimate  complaints,  make 
them  to  the  Captain.  Otherwise  you  will  have  to 
submit  to  the  orders  issued  by  the  officers.  This  is 
a  ship,  not  a  grog  shop.  And  if  there's  any  further 
how  do  you  do  from  any  of  you  prancing  buckos 
I'll  have  you  put  in  irons !" 

Matthew  did  not  notice  the  golden  haired  girl 
during  that  visit — he  was  much  too  busy  singling 
out  blue  jawed,  loud  mouthed  mischief  mongers 
among  her  companions — but  she  watched  him 
breathlessly  from  her  corner  throughout  the  inter- 
view, and  felt  more  secure  because  of  the  knowledge 
of  his  level  eyes  somewhere  above  her  on  deck. 

167  ." 


OH,  SUSANNA! 
8 

And  then  on  a  night  of  howling  gale  and  constant 
anxiety  Matthew  was  obliged  to  go  down  again  with 
the  carpenter  and  the  boatswain  and  put  two  of  them 
in  irons,  as  he  had  threatened. 

"There's  irons  enough  for  all  the  rest  of  you  if 
necessary,"  he  warned  them  grimly. 

He  would  have  been  only  too  pleased  to  include 
some  of  the  crew  in  the  sentence,  but  he  could  not 
spare  them  up  aloft,  and  preferred  to  take  his  chances 
with  them  for  the  sake  of  the  work  he  was  able  to 
beat  out  of  them. 

So  the  dreary  voyage  wore  on,  until  they  were 
only  one  night  out  from  port. 

4 'Only  one  more  day  for  Johnnie,"  they  had  been 
singing  that  morning 

"One  'more  day, 
Oh,  rock  and  roll  me  over, 
Only  one  more  day!" 

And  it  came  very  near  being  "only  one  more  day" 
for  Matthew ! 

For  on  that  last  night,  in  the  middle  of  the  morn- 
ing watch,  the  ringleader  of  all  the  mischief  among 

168 


THE  GOLDEN  HAIRED  GIRL 

the  crew  slipped  below  and  released  the  two 
prisoners.  Matthew  found  time  afterwards  to  take 
pride  in  the  fact  that  the  sailor  had  thought  it  pru- 
dent to  establish  such  complimentary  odds  in  his 
favor,  rather  than  attack  him  single  handed. 

The  three  of  them  fell  on  him  suddenly,  while  he 
was  pacing  the  deck,  and  as  he  leaped  sideways  to 
get  his  back  to  the  bulwark  Matthew  saw  the  flash  of 
knife  blades  in  the  air. 

"Blood  and  nouns  I"  he  exclaimed.  "You  murder- 
ing swill  scrapings!"  and  set  to  work  to  fight  for 
his  life,  with  his  booted  feet,  and  his  fists,  and  a 
belaying  pin  wrenched  from  the  rail. 

".    .    .  the  guileless  heart,  its  boon  bestowing, 
Soothes  them  with  its  lullaby.    .    .    ." 

Yes,  indeed. 

"Blow  the  blistering  orphan  down!"  they  panted. 
"Kick  in  his  ribs — over  the  side  with  him  to  Davy 
Jones  .  .  ."  and  it  probably  would  have  ended  that 
way  in  spite  of  Matthew's  hammer  blows,  if  help 
had  not  come  to  him  in  his  distress.  - 

"Shall  I  fire  the  pistol?"  he  heard  a  voice  nearby 
enquire.    "Or  will  you  take  them  alive,  Sir?" 

"Soak  me !"  he  laughed.  "Alive  will  do  for  such 
169 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

scum  .  .  ."  and  he  fell  on  them  like  a  Samson, 
while  they  wavered  and  lost  heart  at  this  interrup- 
tion. 

He  knocked  one  of  them  down,  kicked  another  in 
the  stomach,  and  threw  his  belaying  pin  at  the  head 
of  the  third  who  had  already  turned  tail.  Then  he 
drove  them  ahead  of  him  up  the  deck  and  down 
below,  and  saw  them  securely  fastened  up  in  double 
irons  before  he  returned  to  discover  the  identity  of 
the  owner  of  the  pistol,  who  had  been  so  confident 
of  his  ability  to  "take  them  alive"! 

It  was  a  golden  haired  girl. 


t  She  was  still  standing  motionless  near  the  bulwark 
where  the  struggle  had  taken  place,  holding  out  the 
pistol  in  her  hand  as  though  there  might  yet  be  use 
for  it.  She  was  bareheaded,  and  very  slender  and 
frail  looking,  and  with  his  first  surprised  glance 
Matthew  saw  that  she  was  very  beautiful.  More 
beautiful  than  any  of  the  belles  from  New  York, 
or  Philadelphia,  or  Boston. 

As  beautiful  indeed  as  his  own  mother.  Well, 
yes,  why  not  admit  it  then,  more  beautiful  than  his 
own  mother ! 

170 


THE  GOLDEN  HAIRED  GIRL 

"Soak  me,  Miss!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  had  not 
thought  it  possible !" 

"What  do  you  have  in  mind,  Sir?"  she  asked  him, 
and  her  New  England  accent  rang  clearly  in  his 
ears.  "The  dastardly  conduct  of  those  men,  or  my 
own  boldness  in  interrupting  you?" 

"Oh,  Miss,  not  that,"  he  smiled.  "I  had  not 
thought  it  possible  that  you  could  be  so — I  intend 
to  say,  that  it  was  a  lady !" 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  remarked.  "Well,  you  had 
scarcely  time  to  think,  Sir." 

"I  owe  my  life  to  you " 

"Oh,  no,  Sir,  I  do  not  think  so,"  she  smiled  back 
at  him.  "You  were  keeping  them  at  bay  very  hand- 
somely. My  only  thought  was  that  if  you  wished 
them  dead  it  would  save  time  with  the  pistol." 

"But  now  that  you  have  saved  my  life  once,  Miss, 
as  I  do  insist,  I  do  not  wish  to  lose  it." 

"How  do  you  mean,  Sir?  Will  there  be  further 
trouble?" 

"No,  but  will  you  not  put  up  the  pistol,  Miss  ?" 

"Oh,  the  pistol — yes,  to  be  sure!"  She  laughed, 
and  held  it  gingerly  away  from  her.  "Now  you  are 
quite  safe,  Sir." 

Yes,  safe  from  the  pistol  Matthew  thought  to 
171 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

himself,  but  not  in  the  least  safe  from  the  danger 
of  her  frank  eyes  and  her  whimsical  thoughts.  And 
the  glory  of  her  golden  hair. 

"How  did  you  come  to  be  on  deck  at  this  hour?" 
he  asked.    "And  armed  ?" 

"I  followed  those  evil  intentioned  men,"  she  ex- 
plained. "I  heard  them  planning  mischief  in  the 
steerage,  and  swearing  to  be  avenged  upon  you,  so 
I  took  my  father's  pistol  and  came  on  deck  to  see 
what  was  to  do." 

"Were  you  not  alarmed,  Miss,  to  do  such  a  thing?" 

"No,  Sir — I  fear  with  me  it  is  always  curiosity 
has  the  better  of  it.  When  I  become  alarmed  it  is 
usually  too  late  to  mend " 

"You  are  wonderful,  Miss !" 

"Do  you  think  so,  Sir  ?  No  one  has  ever  thought 
to  tell  me  so.  My  father  is  of  a  mind  that  I  am 
over  bold — perhaps  it  was  bold  of  me,  Sir,  to  inter- 
fere in  such  a  matter." 

"Soak  me,  Miss,  it  was  a  very  brave  thing  to  do, 
and  I  thank  fortune  for  your  boldness!"  Matthew 
assured  her,  as  he  gazed  at  her  smiling  face.  So 
slender  and  frail,  and  so  fearless. 

"I  would  admire  to  be  as  brave  always  as  you 
have  been  on  this  voyage,  Sir,"  she  replied — and 

172 


THE  GOLDEN  HAIRED  GIRL 

after  a  while  it  occurred  to  Matthew  that  he  had 
better  say  something,  and  not  just  stand  there  smil- 
ing at  her. 

But  for  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  understand 
how  his  father  had  managed  to  make  such  progress 
between  two  ices !  There  were  all  manner  of  things 
he  would  have  liked  to  say  to  this  girl,  but  somehow 
the  words  all  died  on  his  lips  like  orders  shouted 
against  the  wind. 

"You  say  you  heard  them  in  the  steerage,  Miss?" 
he  asked  her  finally,  which  was  not  at  all  what  he 
wanted  to  ask  her. 

"Yes,  we  are  making  the  passage  in  the  steerage, 
my  father  and  I,"  she  told  him.  "He  is  a  teacher  of 
music,  and  we  went  from  Boston  to  England  last 
year  to  give  lessons,  but  the  venture  was  unpros- 
perous.  We  could  not  afford  to  return  in  the  first 
cabin,  Sir." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  Matthew  said  hastily.  He  would 
have  done  better  to  have  asked  her  what  he  had 
wanted  to  in  the  first  place !  "It  was  rude  of  me  to 
enquire." 

"Not  at  all,  Sir.  I  have  been  more  contented  in 
the  steerage  westbound  than  ever  I  was  in  the  first 
cabin  going  over." 

173 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"It  is  highly  spirited  of  you,  Miss,  to  feel  so  in 
spite  of  the  discomfort.  And  now,  you — you  are 
going  to  New  York?" 

Obviously,  she  was  going  to  New  York,  unless 
something  extraordinary  happened  to  the  Cygnet  be- 
tween night  and  morning!  What  he  had  meant  to 
ask  her  was  whether  she  would  remain  in  New  York. 
And  it  seemed  from  her  reply  that  she  had  quite 
naturally  assumed  as  much,  although  the  sparkle  in 
her  eyes  was  hidden  from  Matthew. 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "We  will  stay  in  New  York 
now,  for  a  spell.  My  brother  is  there,  and  my 
father  is  hopeful  of  finding  work  for  us  all." 

"Oh,  Miss,  I  can  not  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  of 
it!"  Matthew  began  jubilantly,  and  then  faltered 
before  the  questioning  surprise  in  her  gaze. 

"Why,  Sir,  at  what  do  you  rejoice  so?" 

"That — that  you  should  be  at  your  journey's  end," 
he  concluded  lamely  enough. 

"Oh,  yes — the  journey's  end,  to  be  sure!"  and  the 
shadows  hid  the  little  fleeting  frown  of  disappoint- 
ment that  darkened  her  brow. 

"It  has  been  a  disagreeable  voyage  for  you,  I  fear, 
but  tomorrow  we  shall  be  in  port,  Miss,  and  your 
troubles  forgotten." 

174 


THE  GOLDEN  HAIRED  GIRL 

"Oh,  I  have  enjoyed  the  voyage,'*  she  exclaimed. 
"Ever  since  the  second  day,  Sir." 

"The  second  day?    What  happened  then?" 

"It  was  the  day  that — Oh,  I  fear  I  am  chattering, 
Sir — I  must  go  below  to  my  father " 

"Oh,  please  do  not  go!"  Matthew  cried  eagerly, 
and  she  turned  quickly  and  faced  him  again.  "I  have 
not  thanked  you " 

"It  is  I  who  ought  to  thank  you,  Sir,  for  all 
that  you  have  done  to  establish  order  in  the 
steerage." 

"Oh,  Miss " 

"I  am  minded  you  should  be  given  a  silver  speak- 
ing trumpet,  Sir — is  not  that  the  customary  token — 
but  from  the  steerage  I  fear  you  will  receive  no 
such  gaudy !" 

"Soak  me,  Miss !"  he  laughed  with  her.  "I  only 
did  my  duty.    You  must  not  thank  me " 

"Then  I  will  say  that  tonight,  for  me,  it  was  a 
pleasure.    It  shall  take  the  place  of  the  trumpet !" 

She  was  utterly  delightful,  Matthew  thought,  and 
told  her  so  very  plainly  with  his  eyes. 

"I  will  prize  your  coming,  Miss,"  he  told  her. 
"More  highly  than  any  silver  trumpet  ever  pre- 
sented  " 

175 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"That  is  very  gracious,  Sir — but  do  not  thank 
me,  if  I  may  not  do  so  to  you." 

"Well,  I  would  admire  to  present  my  respects 
to  your  father " 

"That  would  be  unwise,"  she  informed  him.  "I 
fear  my  father  is  not  well  disposed  towards  seafar- 
ing men !" 

"And  you,  Miss?"  Matthew  asked.  "Do — do  you 
share  his — his  prejudice?  Are  you  not — not  well 
disposed  towards — towards " 

She  put  her  head  back  suddenly  and  laughed  at 
him. 

"Mercy,  Sir!"  she  exclaimed.  "You  did  not 
stammer  so  when  you  were  righting  for  your  life  a 
while  ago." 

"It  was  a  less  important  thing,"  Matthew  smiled. 
"Less  important  than  my  present  anxiety!" 

"Indeed,  Sir,  and  what  is  that?" 

"Can  you  not  guess,  Miss?" 

"No,  Sir,  indeed  I  can  not — unless  it  is  the  pistol 
again!" 

"The  pistol  could  only  kill  me  outright,"  he  said, 
but  she  pretended  not  to  hear. 

"Then  what  is  it  that  so  disturbs  you,  Sir?" 

Matthew  came  a  step  closer  and  put  his  hand  on 
176 


THE  GOLDEN  HAIRED  GIRL 

the  rail,  which  had  not  been  his  original  intention. 
He  had  meant  to  take  her  hand,  but  somehow  this 
seemed  a  very  forward  thing  to  do  at  the  last  sec- 
ond, as  she  herself  admitted  privately  when  she  rea- 
lized his  altered  purpose.  And  yet  her  own  hand 
would  have  gone  to  meet  his,  firmly  and  joyfully ! 

"May  I  hope  to  see  you  again,  Miss?"  he  asked. 
"Tomorrow  will  be  filled  with  the  duties  of  landing 
of  course " 

"Oh,  yes,  Sir,  of  course !" 

"I  can  not  help  it,  Miss — but  in  New  York,  could 
a  seafaring  man  hope  to  find  you,  Miss?" 

"Oh,"  she  remarked.  "Now  you  do  not  stammer 
any  longer,  Sir !" 

"If  you  will  tell  me  where  I  may  find  you,  Miss, 
you  will  see  that  my  speech  is  entirely  cured  of  its 
impediment !" 

She  seemed  to  consider  the  matter  for  a  moment, 
while  Matthew  wondered  what  would  happen  if  he 
should  come  right  out  with  it  and  tell  her  that  this 
hateful  voyage  had  suddenly  become  the  happiest 
one  of  his  life  from  the  fact  of  her  shining  presence 
— and  then  she  laughed  again. 

"I  do  not  doubt  that  you  can  find  me,  Sir,"  she 
said.    "If  you  are  at  pains  to  look  for  me!" 

177 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Soak  me,  Miss!"  Matthew  protested.  "New 
York  town  is  a  big  place,  and  I  am  not  much  ashore. 
It  will  be  like  looking  for  a  needle  in  a  hay  stack !" 

"I  am  minded  that  with  perseverance  such  a  dis- 
covery may  be  attained/'  she  retorted  mischievously. 
"And  now  I  must  go  below — I — I  would  admire 
to — to  have  you  meet  with  success  in — in  your 
search.    .    .    ." 

"Soak  me !"  Matthew  called  after  her.  "Now  it 
is  you  who  are  stammering,  Miss!  I'd  admire  to 
know  why  .  .  ."  but  she  had  gone,  with  another 
laugh  which  kept  sounding  like  music  in  his 
delighted  ears  until  the  lights  of  the  Long  Island 
shore  came  twinkling  over  the  horizon.    .    .    . 

"Land  ho !    Off  the  starboard  bow,  Sir !"     • 

"Aye  aye — boatswain,  report  to  the  Captain,  land 
off  the  starboard  bow." 

"Aye  aye,  Sir — boy,  report  to  the  Captain,  land 
off  the  starboard  bow." 

"Aye  aye,  Sir.    .    .    ." 


178 


CHAPTER  III 
POLKAS  AND  SHEATH  KNIVES 

1 

A  ND  in  the  rear  room  at  Blind  Moll's,  on  Para- 
**  dise  Alley,  a  man  lay  dying,  dying  slowly  from 
a  knife  wound  in  the  back,  whispering  the  broken 
fragments  of  a  secret. 

No  one  in  that  day  could  say  for  certain  why  the 
place  was  called  Blind  Moll's,  and  as  for  the  black, 
narrow,  foul  smelling  lane  on  which  it  was  situated, 
there  was  every  reason  why  it  should  not  have  been 
named  Paradise  Alley,  except  possibly  for  the  fact 
that  it  unquestionably  led  away  from  it. 

There  were  some  who  maintained  that  the  blind- 
ness in  question  was  merely  descriptive  of  the 
character  of  the  alley,  which  yawned  ominously  on 
South  Street,  and  turned  around  a  misguiding  bend 
into  a  blank  wall.  Others,  on  the  contrary,  attri- 
buted it  to  a  real  Moll  of  bygone  days,  who  was 

179 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

supposed  to  have  come  by  her  affliction  as  the  result 
of  an  overdose  of  the  Jersey  lightning  dispensed  in 
her  unsavory  establishment. 

Some,  indeed,  old  patrons  of  the  place,  claimed  to 
have  seen  her.  Panama  Joe's  father,  for  instance, 
Sloping  Sam,  always  insisted  that  he  had  known 
her  before  the  blindness  had  overtaken  her. 

"Old  Moll !  Fry  her  bones  in  oil — she  had  a  mole 
on  her  right  cheek,  and  a  beard  like  a  spouter's  skip- 
per! She'd  roar  like  a  greaser  dishing  out  hand- 
spike hash  when  the  boys  began  splunging !  I  stands 
up  to  Mother  Longley  as  man  to  man  in  an  argu- 
ment, but  old  Moll — she  was  a  female  sea  ser- 
pent.   .    .    ." 

At  all  events  Blind  Moll's  was  perhaps  the  filth- 
iest, and  the  lowest,  and  the  most  murderous  of  the 
waterfront  gin  mills  where  sailors  gathered  to  have 
a  time  of  it  ashore,  and  be  robbed  of  all  their  belong- 
ings by  the  Kates  and  Sues  and  Sals  they  spent  so 
much  time  singing  about  afterwards,  and  squander 
away  their  "dead  horse,"  as  they  called  the  first 
month's  wages  of  a  long  voyage  paid  to  them  in 
advance. 

".    .    .  they  say  my  horse  is  dead  and  gone, 
And  they  say  so, 

180 


POLKAS  AND  SHEATH  KNIVES 

And  they  hope  so, 

They  say  my  horse  is  dead  and  gone, 

Oh,  poor  old  man! 

"For  one  long  month  I  rode  him  hard, 
If  he's  not  dead,  I'll  ride  him  again, 
And  they  say  so, 
And  they  hope  so, 
But  if  he's  dead  I'll  bury  him  low, 
I'll  hoist  him  to  the  mainyard  arm, 
Oh,  poor  old  man!" 

It  was  a  far  cry  from  this  dive,  with  its  rum  and 
its  dice,  its  raw  whiskey,  its  cards,  and  its  gin,  to 
the  cleanly  elegance  of  Cato's,  for  instance,  and  his 
more  sophisticated  juleps  and  slings,  hail  storms, 
swizzles,  stone  fences,  and  streaks  of  lightning ! 


On  the  night  in  question  the  place  was  packed  to 
the  skylights  with  a  roaring,  singing  mob,  making 
the  most  of  their  last  few  hours  ashore.  Two  pack- 
ets were  sailing  in  the  morning,  and  the  Skylark  and 
the  Sea  Horse  for  China,  and  their  Atlantic  and 
long  voyage,  'lime  juice,"  crews  were  "riding  the 
horse"  until  he  dropped. 

The  small,  low  ceilinged,  soot  grimed  front  room 
was  filled  with  a  floating  haze  of  thick,  cheap  to- 

181 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

bacco  smoke,  in  which  red  and  striped  shirted,  blue 
trousered,  stiff  hatted  figures,  each  with  his  sheath 
knife  hanging  at  his  leather  belt,  were  swirling  about 
unsteadily  under  the  feeble  light  from  a  half  dozen 
sticking  tommies — pronged  iron  candle  holders 
jabbed  into  the  walls. 

Before  the  bar,  a  ramshackle  counter  propped  up 
on  empty  tar  barrels  stretching  across  one  end  of 
the  room,  a  swarm  of  men  were  elbowing  each  other 
about,  shouting  unexpurgated  profanities  at  one 
another,  and  taking  alcoholic  farewells  of  boon  com- 
panions. 

"Ahoy,  my  prancing  buckos,  has  the  world  turned 
dry.    .    .    ." 

"...  belay  there,  you  lumbering  son  of  a  board- 
ing house  runner  !" 

"Old  Bill— good  old  Bill—goo'  bye  Bill " 

".    .    .  around  his  hips 
He  had  a  string  of  little  ships, 
And  on  his  back 
He  wore  a  Union  Jack — 
Oh,  he  was  a  tattooed  man.    .    .    ." 

"Lime  juice  and  dandy  funk,  that's  what,  six 
staggering  months    .    .    ." 

".    .    .  going  t'  China  t'morrow  onth'  slip  Sky- 
182 


POLKAS  AND  SHEATH  KNIVES 

shark — meanth'  skip  Skylark — fine  ship  Slyshark — 
fight  an'body  says  better  ship  afloat " 

"Mer  jolie  et  bon  vent, 
Quand  le  temps  favorise, 
La  nuit,  notre  vaisseau, 
Ho!    Si  la  brise  frise  I'eau — 

Cric  crac  et  sabot! 

Cuiller  a  pot!" 

"Belay  there,  Johnnie  Franzo !" 
"Poor  old  Bill— 's  got  a  hair  lip  .  .  ." 
At  the  rickety  tables  around  the  room  another 
swarm  of  men  were  sitting,  exhanging  nautical  wit- 
ticisms with  Kate  and  Sue,  pounding  their  fists  and 
singing  noisy  choruses,  each  tableful  utterly  oblivious 
of  the  rest. 

".    .    .1  sailed  in  the  good  ship  the  Kitty, 
With  a  smart  blowing  gale  and  rough  sea, 
Left  my  Polly  the  lads  call  so  pretty 
Safe  here  at  an  anchor,  yo  yea — 

Yo,  yo  yea, 

Yoyea.    .    .    ." 

So  sang  a  company  of  Sea  Horse  sailors  while 
their  neighbors  were  thumping  out  the  fact  that 

".    .    .  When  you  go  to  the  boatmen's  ball, 

Dance  with  my  wife  or  don't  dance  at  all, 

183 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Sky  blue  jacket,  tarpaulin  hat, 

Look  out,  boys,  for  the  nine  tail  cat — 

Dance,  the  boatmen,  dance, 

Oh,  dance,  the  boatmen,  dance, 

We  dance  all  night 

Till  broad  daylight, 

Go  home  with  the  girls  in  the  morning — 

Hi  ho,  the  boatmen  row, 

Floating  down  the  river  of  the  O-hi-o !" 

And  then  for  a  moment  they  were  all  drowned 
out  by  a  third  group  from  one  of  the  packets  in  the 
center  of  the  floor,  dancing  a  polka  in  their  sea  boots, 
until  the  sticking  tommies  began  to  shake  loose  from 
the  walls  amid  angry  cries 

"Vast  there — belay — you  floating  ladies'  maids!" 

"Yah — lime  juicers!" 

3 

No  one  was  ever  able  to  state  clearly  afterwards 
how  it  all  began.  Some  insisted  that  the  trouble 
started  between  the  packet  crews,  in  an  argument 
over  the  respective  merits  of  the  Black  Ball  and 
Dramatic  Lines. 

".  .  .  a  Black  Bailer  can  sail  backwards  through 
a  sea  of  molasses  faster  than  a  Dram  can  get  from 
the  Battery  to  Sandy  Hook!" 

184 


POLKAS  AND  SHEATH  KNIVES 

"A  Black  Spot's  spars  wouldn't  even  do  for  tooth- 
picks aboard  a  Dramatic — a  dying  baby's  last  breath 
would  split  a  Black  Bailer's  topsails !" 

"Yah,  go  fish  your  masts,  our  cabin  boy  might 
sneeze !" 

"Know  what  you  are?  Galloping  barnacle 
traps    .    .    ." 

Others  were  just  as  positive  that  the  packet  riot 
had  nothing  to  do  with  it  actually,  and  that  the 
real  cause  of  the  quarrel  was  an  insulting  ditty 
sung  by  an  intoxicated  Liverpool  rat  in  a  striped 
shirt. 

At  all  events  it  was  certain  that  the  air  was  sud- 
denly filled  with  whirling  chair  legs  and  flying  fists, 
and  a  great  uproar  of  rallying  cries  and  blistering 
epithets. 

"Black  Ball— Black  Ball— Black  Ball !  Red  shirts 
together!" 

".  .  .  into  them,  my  buckos,  tickle  the  soles  of 
their  feet!  Coil  up,  you  lime  juicers — stay  on  your 
own  beach — it's  packet  day  in  the  morning.    .    .    ." 

"Steady  as  you  go,  Dramatics — Black  eyes  for  the 
Black  Spots " 

"...  kick  them  in  the  ribs — crack  open  their  ear 
drums — pull  out  their  livers !" 

185 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Clear  the  track— Black  X— Black  X!  Run  the 
starry  orphans  ashore!" 

"All  together,  Black  Ball,  walk  away  with  them 
handsomely,  the  foaming  sons  of  cockroaches  .  .    " 

".    .    .  Around  their  hips 
They  had  a  string  of  little  ships, 
And  on  their  back 
They  wore  a  Union  Jack.    .    .    ." 

"Caterwauling  blubber  crunchers    .    .    ." 

Crash — grunt — smash 

And  then  it  was  equally  certain  that  the  furniture 
breaking  turmoil  subsided  just  as  suddenly,  to  find 
Sloping  Sam  and  the  Liverpool  striped  shirt  face  to 
face  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  a  howling  gale 
blowing  up  between  them. 

"Belay  there — shorten  sail " 

"Stand  by,  you  Yankees!" 

".    .    .  blow  that  man  down " 


'Vast  heaving  and  listen  to  the  angels  sing 


Until  that  moment  Sloping  Sam  had  been  sitting 
quietly  enough  in  a  corner,  enjoying  the  hurly  burly 
and  sipping  his  grog.  He  had  landed  that  same 
afternoon  from  a  China  voyage,  with  money  in  his 

186 


POLKAS  AND  SHEATH  KNIVES 

pockets  and  an  inordinate  desire  to  spend  it  as 
rapidly  as  possible,  and  his  whole  attention  had  been 
concentrated  on  a  study  of  the  various  means  of 
gratifying  this  desire  in  the  most  satisfactory  man- 
ner. 

"Will  I  eat  it,  or  drink  it?"  that  was  the  question. 

In  the  meantime  he  had  very  probably  stowed 
away  a  far  greater  quantity  of  rum  already  than 
was  apparent  from  his  placid  expression. 

"He'll  empty  a  scuttle  butt  full  of  grog  without 
taking  a  breath,"  they  said  of  him. 

He  was  aroused  from  his  concentration  by  a  sound 
which  displeased  him.  Over  on  the  other  side  of  the 
room,  to  be  sure,  they  were  smashing  chairs  over 
each  other's  heads,  and  no  doubt  there  was  some 
excellent  reason  for  it.  Sloping  Sam  would  not  have 
interfered  for  worlds. 

"Sweet  winds  of  night !"  he  chuckled.  "I  admires 
to  see  brave  lads  killing  each  other  for  sport    .    .    ." 

But  this  other  sound  annoyed  him.  It  was  a  dis- 
agreeably high  pitched  voice  singing  a  whining 
song.  Sloping  Sam  raised  his  less  deaf  ear  to 
the  sound,  in  order  to  ascertain  whether  the  song 
itself  could  be  considered  to  justify  the  noise  of  its 
singing. 

187 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

The  song,  as  revealed  to  his  curiosity,  was  to  the 
effect  that 

".    .    .a  Yankee  ship  came  down  the  river 
Blow,  boys,  blow, 
Her  masts  did  bend,  her  sails  did  shiver, 
Blow,  my  jolly  boys,  blow ! 

The  sails  were  old,  her  sides  were  rotten 

His  charts  the  skipper  had  forgotten, 
Blow,  boys,  blow!" 

Sloping  Sam  came  to  the  swift  conclusion  that  he 
did  not  like  the  song.  It  struck  him  as  unfriendly. 
He  also  came  to  the  swifter  conclusion  that  he  liked 
the  singer  even  less.  A  brief  examination  of  this 
state  of  mind  brought  out  the  discovery  that  the 
chief  cause  of  his  dislike  was  the  unprepossessing 
nature  of  the  singer's  face. 

"Face  like  a  bowl  of  lobscouse!"  he  decided  judi- 
cially.   'Til  blow  you!" 

Sloping  Sam  seized  his  mug,  emptied  it  carefully 
of  its  contents,  and  hurled  it  at  the  offending  sight. 

"I  don't  admire  to  see  your  face,"  he  announced. 
"Puts  me  in  mind  of  a  dish  of  worms.  Your  song 
isn't  a  pretty  song,  neither." 

"Blistering  cobbles  of  Bristol!"  the  injured  one 
howled.    "Great  shining  beads  of  sweat !    If  candle 

188 


POLKAS  AND  SHEATH  KNIVES 

droppings  was  food  you'd  be  a  whole  suffocating 
meal!" 

In  another  second  of  course  they  were  nose  to 
nose,  breathing  in  each  other's  teeth,  snarling  back 
and  forth  like  a  pair  of  wild  cats.  Around  them  the 
mob  pushed  and  elbowed,  its  own  recent  differences 
forgotten. 

"Stand  back — give  them  steerage  way " 

"Pipe  down  and  listen  to  the  music    .    .    ." 
".    .    .  it's  a  good  song!"  Liverpool  was  insisting. 
"I  say  it's  a  good  song — a  stammering  good  song — 
a   complimentary    song,    considering — I'll    sing    it 
again 

"Oh,  a  Yankee  ship  came  down  the  river, 
Her  masts  did  bend,  her  sails " 

"You  hush  or  put,  you  corned  canary !" 

"Who's  to  make  me,  tell  me  that — who's  to  make 
me,  you  worm  eaten  pork  barrel !" 

"I  calculates  to  do  the  needful — I'm  of  a  clever 
nature,  but  you  turn  me  ugly  and  I'm  as  wicked  as 
a  blower's  handspike !" 

"You  don't  frighten  me,  you  staggering  bucket  of 
slops 

"The  sails  were  old,  her  sides  were  rotten " 

189 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"I'd  admire  to  have  all  Liverpool  boiled  down  to 
a  point  to  pour  down  your  throat — you — you  pock 
marked  son  of  a  Bubble  Alley  land  shark!" 

"Yah — sea  lawyer!" 

Sloping  Sam  blinked  at  the  insult. 

"Sweet  winds  of  night!"  he  marvelled.  "I  cal- 
culates that's  meant  unfriendly!"  and  with  a  grunt 
he  landed  on  the  jaw  of  the  striped  shirt  from  Liver- 
pool. "That's  for  manners,"  he  explained.  "It 
can't  spoil  your  glittering  face  more  than  it  is 
already !" 

The  singer  went  down  in  a  heap,  spitting  teeth  and 
his  downfall  was  received  with  howls  of  joy  from 
the  lime  juicers,  and  from  a  majority  of  the  packet 
sailors  as  well,  so  that  Sloping  Sam  suddenly  found 
himself  the  object  of  a  boisterous  ovation. 

"Old  Sam  it  is — that's  the  savage  bucko !" 

"...  give  him  a  mug — ahoy  there,  fill  them  up, 
fill  them  up!" 

"Hardi,  le  vieux,  pfrel" 

"Hardee  yourself,  John  Franzo !" 

"Three  cheers  for  Sloping  Sam !  He'll  blow  you 
down  any  splunging  jolly  boy  from  the  Battery  to 
Hong  Kong.    ..." 

"He's  a  proper  Yankee!" 
190 


POLKAS  AND  SHEATH  KNIVES 

Sloping  Sam  decided  that  he  must  make  a  speech. 
The  occasion  required  it.  He  turned  to  face  the 
roomful  and  waved  his  mug  for  silence. 

"Sailormen  all !"  he  began.  "I  calculates  to  blow 
down  any  stuttering  son  of  a  press  gang  as  makes 
unfriendly  remarks  by  way  of  argument " 

"Hurrah!" 

"I  stands  for  Yankee  ships,  and  our  country's 
flag,  God  bless  her !" 

"Vive  I'Amerique  .   .    ." 

"I  thanks  you  kindly,  one  and  all,  and  drinks 
towards  you.  Here's  to  all  true  sailormen,  their 
wives,  their  ships,  and  their  sweethear — Glurrh  .  .  ." 

He  stopped  dead  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence,  with 
a  horrible  gurgle  in  his  throat,  and  then  he  collapsed, 
face  downwards  on  the  floor.  From  his  back  stuck 
out  the  handle  of  a  sheath  knife. 

"Sinner's  redemption!"  a  man  cried.  "He's 
murdered    .    .    ." 

It  was  the  Liverpool  rat  of  course.  He  had 
picked  himself  up  from  the  floor,  yellow,  and  very 
nearly  sober,  with  rage,  and  in  a  moment  when 
everyone  was  watching  Sloping  Sam  he  had  plunged 
his  knife  into  the  other's  kidney. 

"Go  to  your  proper  Yankee's  rest!"  he  stopped 
191 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

long  enough  in  the  doorway  to  shout  at  them  all. 
"It's  prettier  faces  you'll  be  finding  there    .    .    ." 

The  wounded  man  rolled  over  on  his  side  and 
tried  to  sit  up,  while  all  around  him  on  the  floor  a 
thin  crimson  stain  was  spreading.  Over  near  the 
door  men  were  scratching  and  pounding  their  breath- 
less way  out  of  Blind  Moll's.  There  would  be  no 
more  polkas  that  night. 

"Sweet  winds  of — night !"  Sloping  Sam  gasped. 
"I'm  fixed — my  first  night  ashore,  and  everything 
rosy — and  he's  done  for  the  old  man    .    .    ." 

"Lift  him  up — carry  him  into  the  rear  room " 

"Mop  up  that  mess — there'll  be  night  watchmen 
smelling  around    .    .    ." 

"Go  fetch  the  lad,  mate!"  Sloping  Sam  begged 
them.  "Panama  Joe — fetch  him  to  me  while  there's 
a  breath  left  in  me — there's  a  proper  pal    .    .    ." 

5 
"Come  closer,  lad,"  Sloping  Sam  was  whispering 
a  little  later  in  the  back  room  where  they  had  hidden 
him.  His  son,  Panama  Joe,  was  bending  over  the  cot, 
a  murderous  looking,  black  jawed,  whiskey  soaked 
young  packet  rat  himself,  who  had  won  his  nickname 
in  the  wreck  of  the  Flying  Foam  off  the  Isthmus. 

192 


POLKAS  AND  SHEATH  KNIVES 

"Come  closer — is  anyone  listening — I  was  aboard 
of  her,  I'm  telling  you — she  was  called  the  Felicity 
Belle,  a  fine  ship  in  her  day " 

"Never  mind  the  ship " 

"Captain  Parsons  was  his  name,  Gamaliel  Par- 
sons— his  son's  greaser  on  the  Cygnet — we  had  a 
Chinaman  aboard  too    .    .    ." 

"You've  said  all  that  before!" 

"Down  in  the  Parangambalang  River  we  were, 
roasting  like  chestnuts,  counting  fireflies — I'm  tell- 
ing you,  Joe,  my  lad,  I  saw  it  with  my  own  eyes — 
is  that  somebody  listening?" 

"There's  nobody  here  but  me — what  was  it  you 
?" 

I'm  coming  to  it — I'm  going  fast  now,  Joe,  bend 
closer — He  went  up  the  river  to  the  junk,  the  Captain 
— when  he  came  back  he  had  the  elephant,  a  blue 
china  elephant, — he's  got  it  now,  the  Chinaman  gave 
it  to  him " 

"Is  that  all?" 

"Wait,  lad — I  saw  the  Chinaman  with  it  on  the 
deck  afterwards — it's  true  as  I'm  dying,  Joe — I  saw 
his  long  fingers,  and  the  stones — and  the  paper -" 

"I'm  not  saying  it  isn't    .    .    ." 

"In    Ismail's   compound    afterwards   they   were 
13  193 


saw: 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

speaking  of  it  too — they  had  watched  from  the  shore 
—the  elephant — three  times  stolen  it  was,  and  the 
fourth  time  would  be  the  last — did  you  ever  hear  a 
pantun,  lad  ? 

"Brappa  tinggi  puchok  pisang    .    .    ." 

Sloping  Sam  was  wandering,  and  his  son  shook 
him  violently. 

"Belay !"  he  exclaimed.  "Leave  that  to  the  angels. 
What  about  the  elephant?" 

"The  elephant  ?  Yes — he  had  swallowed  evil,  they 
said — and  I  saw  it  with  my  own  eyes,  that  night  on 
the  deck.  I  could  never  get  my  hooks  into  it — on 
that  trip  he  kept  it  locked  away,  and  then  he  took  it 
ashore — Captain  Parsons,  but  you  must  get  it, 
Joe " 

"What  would  I  do  with  a  shivering  china  ele- 
phant ?" 

"Listen,  Joe,  I'll  swear  it's  true — I'm  dying,  lad, 
there's  no  more  than  a  brace  of  breaths  left — it  was 
in  the  paper  after  he  had  made  the  three  little  heaps 
— lean  closer    .    .    ." 

He  pulled  the  other  down  nearer  to  his  gasping 
mouth  and  whispered  a  broken  sentence  in  his  ear. 

Panama  Joe  sprang  up  as  though  a  scorpion  had 
bitten  him. 

194 


POLKAS  AND  SHEATH  KNIVES 

"Sweet  singing  birds  of  paradise !"  he  shouted. 
"You  never  mean — tell  me  again — speak  up,  old 
man    .    .    ." 

He  leaned  over  and  shook  the  bloodless  form  on 
the  cot  again,  but  Sloping  Sam  was  already  gone  to 
his  proper  Yankee's  rest. 


195 


CHAPTER  IV 
THREADS  OF  ROMANCE 

1 

rT1HE  golden  haired  girl  had  gone,  with  her  laugh 
*  and  her  stammer,  and  Matthew  let  her  go  for 
the  time  being,  understanding  that  he  must  not  fol- 
low her  into  the  between  decks,  and  arouse  the 
curiosity  of  the  other  steerage  passengers,  or  the 
anger  of  her  father  who  was  not  well  disposed 
towards  seafaring  men !  But  the  next  day  when  they 
were  landing  he  would  contrive  to  see  her  once  more, 
and  find  out — find  out — well,  find  out  her  name  at 
least,  and  why  she  had  stammered  perhaps ! 

"Sally's  teeth  are  white  and  pearly,"  he  sang  to 
himself 

"Her  eyes  are  blue,  her  hair  is  curly, 
Aye,  aye,  roll  and  go!" 

But  as  it  turned  out  the  next  morning,  one  thing 
after  another  kept  him  occupied — his  testimony  to 

196 


THREADS  OF  ROMANCE 

the  authorities  concerning  the  murderous  events  of 
the  night  before,  a  last  minute  search  through  the 
baggage  for  a  hysterical  lady's  trunks  which  seemed 
to  have  been  left  behind  in  Liverpool — an  endless 
succession  of  unexpected  duties,  aside  from  the 
routine  of  making  wharf  and  tying  up,  so  that 
when  he  finally  had  time  to  look  for  the  golden 
haired  girl  he  found  that  she  had  already  gone 
ashore  in  a  tender. 

"Soak  me  in  brine !"  Matthew  exclaimed  to  him- 
self. "What  a  deep  water  loony  I  am !  I've  let  her 
go,  without  a  word — what  will  she  think  of  me!" 

As  a  matter  of  fact  she  had  waited  timidly  as 
long  as  she  dared,  putting  off  their  departure  until 
her  father's  querulous  insistence  could  no  longer  be 
contained. 

"He  does  not  really  care,"  she  sighed.  "He  was 
only  philandering    .    .    ." 

And  then  another  devastating  thought  came  to 
Matthew. 

"How  am  I  to  find  her  now !"  he  cried.  "I  don't 
even  know  her  name,  crush  my  fids !" 

He  made  frantic  enquiries  all  over  the  ship — 
somebody  might  have  known  the  name  of  the  music 
teacher,  and  his  daughter,  or  she  might  possibly  have 

197 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

left  a  message  for  him — but  no  one,  from  boy  to 
Captain,  could  give  him  any  information. 

"In  the  steerage,  were  they?  Lord,  we  don't 
know  their  names    .    .    ." 

"Lost  his  heart  in  the  between  decks !"  chuckled 
Captain  Logan.  "He's  pointing  all  over  the  card 
like  a  compass  gone  crazy.  Are  you  sure  it  was  not 
a  mermaid  come  aboard,  Mat?" 

"I  have  never  heard  of  mermaids  that  carried 
pistols,  Sir,"  Matthew  replied,  and  for  once  he 
seemed  quite  ugly. 

"I'll  wager  I've  lost  the  best  dandy  mate  that 
ever  warped  a  ship  out,"  the  Captain  grunted. 
"We're  never  safe  from  the  ladies,  God  bless 
them!" 

And  he  was  not  far  wrong.  Matthew  had  cer- 
tainly lost  his  heart  in  the  between  decks,  and  what 
was  far  more  important,  he  had  lost  the  girl  in 
whose  keeping  it  now  reposed.  For  of  course  he 
failed  to  find  her  ashore,  in  the  brief  time  before  the 
next  sailing  day,  in  spite  of  every  effort  which  his 
desperate  ingenuity  could  devise. 

"Have  you  seen  a  golden  haired  girl  whose  father 
is  not  well  disposed  towards  seafaring  men    ..." 

It  was  hopeless  of  course,  with  the  city  growing 
198 


THREADS  OF  ROMANCE 

to  be  so  large — nearly  five  hundred  thousand  people 
swarming  its  streets! 

He  was  obliged  to  sail,  and  again,  and  again,  and 
endlessly,  without  discovering  a  trace  of  the  girl  who 
had  stammered  just  a  little  herself  there  at  the 
last    .    „    . 


And  as  Captain  Logan  had  prophesied,  he  lost  his 
dandy  mate,  for  as  the  months  went  by  Matthew 
felt  sick  with  pining,  and  grew  thin  and  sleepless, 
and  his  heart  was  gone  from  his  work. 

'The  lad  is  in  love,  burn  his  eyes!"  the  Captain 
himself  told  Gamaliel.  "He  does  his  duty  with  the 
best  of  them — there  never  was  a  better  dandy — 
but  he  would  as  soon  be  knifed  by  a  packet  rat  as 
not,  and  that  will  never  do  for  a  mate  in  these  pip- 
ing times!" 

"Perhaps  he  needs  a  change " 

"Yes,  I  had  it  in  mind.  Why  not  send  him  to  the 
Orient  in  the  Mandarin?  To  tell  the  truth  he  is 
wasting  his  time  with  us,  he  is  too  good  to  remain  a 
mate,  and  there  are  no  vacancies  in  the  Line  for 
captains." 

So  one  evening  Gamaliel  called  Matthew  into  his 
199 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

library,  and  gave  him  a  cheroot,  and  very  wisely 
spoke  of  many  things  to  his  son,  excepting  of  the 
golden  haired  girl. 

".  .  .you  have  served  your  apprenticeship  with 
the  Black  Ball,  and  gained  very  valuable  experience, 
but  it  is  time  for  you  to  think  of  other  matters,  I 
calculate." 

"What  would  you  have  me  do,  Sir  ?" 

"We  are  blue  water  sailors,  accustomed  to  deep 
sea  voyaging.  I  feel  that  you  should  come  into  Par- 
sons and  Moore,  and  carry  on  the  business.  I 
reckon  we  can  do  with  some  young  blood  in  the 
firm.  We  will  make  a  Captain  of  you,  until  you  are 
ready  to  take  your  place  in  the  counting  room." 

"Very  good,  Sir,  thank  you    .    .    ." 

"And  first  I  would  admire  to  have  you  go  to 
China,"  Gamaliel  told  him.  "In  the  Mandarin,  as 
a  private  venture,  although  you  will  fly  our  house 
flag — it  will  command  attention  for  you  in  the 
Orient." 

"Yes,  Sir " 

"I  promised  Ah  Fung  I  would  send  you  out  to 
him.  That  was  a  long  time  ago  already,  and  in  his 
letters  he  tells  me  that  he  is  advancing  in  years,  even 
as  I  am.    He  will  be  past  sixty  now." 

200 


THREADS  OF  ROMANCE 

"I  should  be  very  glad  to  see  him,  Sir,"  said  Mat- 
thew. "I  have  always  heard  you  speak  so  affec- 
tionately of  him." 

"We  have  done  many  things  together,  as  he  will 
doubtless  tell  you!"  smiled  Gamaliel.  "Some  of 
them  scatter  brained  as  I  look  back  on  them — but 
all  of  them  saucily  conceived!" 

"And  perhaps  Captain  van  den  Bosch  will  be  there 
also?" 

"Jan  Pieterszoon !"  chuckled  Gamaliel.  "There 
was  a  rolling  bucko  for  you !  He  will  be  quite  bald 
now.  It  may  be  that  he  has  returned  to  Amsterdam. 
I  have  not  heard  from  him  lately,  but  he  was  think- 
ing of  it." 

"No  doubt  that  is  why  you  have  not  heard  from 
him." 

"If  you  should  see  him,  do  not  believe  everything 
he  tells  you  about  me!  If  he  begins  with  heisa  or 
heusch,  or  wah  bela,  you  will  know  that  it  is  some 
tale  for  the  marines !" 

"I  do  not  doubt,  Sir,  that  the  true  things  he  has 
to  tell  alone  would  fill  a  log  book,"  smiled  Matthew. 

He  had  his  suspicions  of  his  fathers  real  motives 
for  wishing  to  send  him  away,  and  was  ready  to  do 
his  part.    What  did  it  matter  where  he  sailed — he 

201 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

would  always  hear  her  laughter  ringing  in  his  ears, 
and  dream  of  the  wonderful  golden  hair.  .  .  . 

"Split  me !"  Gamaliel  was  laughing.  "It  is  all  very 
long  ago  now,  twenty  and  thirty  years.  I  calculate 
I  made  the  Dutchman  perspire,  as  he  was  always 
complaining!    Did  I  never  tell  you  of  Maimunah?,, 

"No,  Sir,  I'd  admire  to  hear " 

And  so  Gamaliel  told  him  of  the  stranded  junk, 
and  while  Matthew  laughed  with  the  old  ring  in  his 
voice,  and  seemed  to  forget  himself  in  these  recollec- 
tions, he  drifted  on  into  other  reminiscences. 

".  .  .  but,  pickle  me,  lad,  do  not  tell  your 
mother!" 

Of  Yeddo,  and  the  Sho gun's  banquet,  and  how 
he  had  received  the  op  posers,  although  not  of  the 
lacquer  box,  indeed — and  aroused  his  son's  amused 
curiosity  thereby,  knowing  as  he  did  what  had  been 
in  the  box,  and  strangely  enough,  as  he  realized  now, 
for  a  Shogun's  gift !    And  of  the  elephant. 

"Split  me,  but  I  will  never  forget  Ah  Fung  that 
night!  'You  alive — you  not  hantuf  And  the 
Dutchman — 'I  am  a  very  brave  man!'  And  that 
precious  elephant    .    .    ." 

Yes,  the  elephant,  up  there  on  the  mantelpiece  in 
the  next  room,  grinning  away  to  himself  at  an 

202 


THREADS  OF  ROMANCE 

ancient  jest.  Gamaliel  seemed  to  frown  a  little,  and 
leaned  forward  in  his  chair. 

"I  am  minded  to  tell  you  something  more  about 
the  elephant,"  he  said  to  Matthew.  "Is  the  door 
closed?  Something  the  Chinaman  said,  and  Mai- 
munah  too,  later.  You  know  that  when  he  gave  me 
the  elephant  Ah  Fung  said  a  smart  of  silly  things !" 

••Yes?" 

"He  said  that  it  was  very  precious,  and  valuable, 
but  that  if  I  kept  it,  it  would  bring  me  luck,  to  me 
and  my  house.  And  that  if  I  had  wisdom  enough 
to  break  it  and  throw  it  away  when  the  proper  time 
came,  no  matter  how  precious  it  was,  it  would  bring 
a  blessing " 

"Indeed,  Sir !    It's  not  very  clear " 


"They  always  talk  in  riddles  in  the  Orient 

Yes,  a  blessing  to  me,  or  to  my  son  if  he  had  the 
elephant  and  knew  when  to  break  it  and  throw  it 
away.  Today,  tomorrow,  in  a  hundred  years/ 
those  were  his  words." 

"That  is  very  curious,  Sir,"  said  Matthew. 
"What  could  he  have  meant,  do  you  suppose  ?  And 
what  did  Maimunah  say?" 

"Well,  split  me,  but  she  said  the  contrary.  It  was 
in  a  letter  from  Jan.     She  said  that  the  elephant 

203 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

would  bring  bad  luck — that  it  had  been  stolen  three 
times,  which  was  bad " 

"Stolen  three  times  ?" 

"Yes,  that  was  true — once  from  Ah  Fung  by 
the  Chinese  pirates,  and  the  second  time  from  the 
Chinese  by  Ismail  and  his  perumpaks,  and  the  third 
time  by  me  from  aboard  the  stranded  junk  in  the 
river." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  see " 

"She  said  that  the  fourth  time  would  be  the  last, 
and  to  beware  of  it  because  it  had  swallowed  evil." 

"Swallowed  evil !" 

"Yes,  I  calculate  that  was  one  of  their  Malayu 
proverbs.  It  is  a  language  of  pictures.  There  was 
more  talk  also  about  eyes  in  the  jungle,  and  a  tongue 
that  chattered  in  her  father's  compound,  and  a  lot  of 
similar  slack." 

"Really?" 

"Jan  suggested  that  perhaps  she  believed  that  the 
elephant  was  hantu — they  are  all  so  superstitious 
in  the  Archipelago.  We  never  told  Ah  Fung  of 
course." 

"Soak  me,  Sir,  but  that  is  all  very  strange !" 

"Yes,  I  have  wondered  often  what  it  all  meant. 
And  now  there's  another  thing.    Your  mother  has 

204 


THREADS  OF  ROMANCE 

taken  a  dislike  to  the  elephant.  I  think  that  for  some 
reason  she  fears  it !" 

"My  mother !" 

"Yes.  It  seems  that  once  she  was  frightened  by  a 
man  who  came  to  the  window  for  alms.  She  de- 
scribed him  as  an  evil  appearing  man,  and  it  is  her 
belief  that  he  was  looking  for  the  elephant,  for  he 
stood  before  the  dining  room  window,  and  stared 
his  eyes  out  at  the  mantelpiece,  until  he  heard  me 
coming.' ' 

"I  would  not  have  thought  Mother  one  to  imagine 
things,"  said  Matthew. 

"No,  nor  I.  It  was  some  time  ago — not  long 
after  that  affair  at  Blind  Moll's  when  a  sailor  was 
murdered.  You  would  not  remember  it,  you  were 
at  sea." 

"No,  Sir " 

"Ever  since  then  she  can  not  abide  the  elephant. 
I  believe  that  she  dreams  about  it,  and  sees  us  all 
murdered !  Indeed,  I  have  thought  that  perhaps  the 
time  has  come  to  throw  it  away!" 

"Oh,  soak  me,  Sir!"  Matthew  exclaimed.  "That 
would  be  a  pity  surely.  I  am  much  attached  to 
the  laughing  elephant.  Give  it  to  me,  Sir,  if  you 
will,  and  I  will  take  it  to  sea  with  me,  and  then 

205 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Mother  will  be  no  longer  troubled  with  her  night- 
mare/' 

"I  would  not  have  you  take  it,  lad,  unless  you  do 
not  fear  the  prophecy!" 

"Why,  Sir,  it  was  the  Chinaman's  gift,  and  he 
would  have  us  keep  it.  I  will  believe  his  prophecy 
of  good  luck,  and  not  the  other." 

"Then  remember  that  you  must  have  wisdom  to 
break  it  and  throw  it  away  when  the  time  comes,  no 
matter  how  you  value  it!"  Gamaliel  laughed.  "I 
trust  it  may  indeed  bring  you  luck,  my  son,  and  a 
blessing." 

"Thank  you,  Sir.    I  pray  it  may  be  so    .    .    ." 


And  so  Matthew  took  the  laughing  elephant  away 
with  him  to  sea,  in  the  Mandarin,  and  sailed  down 
the  Bay,  China  bound  for  the  first  time,  as  his  father 
had  once  sailed,  some  thirty  years  before. 

".    .    .  as  I  was  walking  out  one  day, 
Down  by  the  East  River, 
Heave  away,  my  Johnnies, 
Heave  away! 

I  saw  the  charming  maids  so  gay, 
A  coming  down  in  flocks, 
206 


THREADS  OF  ROMANCE 

Heave  away,  my  jolly  boys, 
We're  all  bound  to  go!" 

"Split  me!  I'd  admire  to  be  going  with 
him     .     .     ."  exclaimed  Gamaliel. 

"When  will  you  grow  up,  Gamaliel,  my  love?" 
Felicity  asked  him.  "I  could  not  stand  to  have  you 
both  away  at  once !" 

And  while  a  whisper  ran  from  wharf  to  wharf, 
and  from  grog  shop  to  grog  shop,  until  it  came  eddy- 
ing around  the  misleading  bend  in  Paradise  Alley, 
opposite  Blind  Moll's  into  the  ears  of  Panama  Joe, 
a  golden  haired  girl  stood  at  the  Battery  and 
watched  the  Mandarin's  vanishing  hull. 

"He  has  forgotten,"  she  whispered.  "He  was  too 
busy  that  day  when  we  landed,  and  now  he  is  gone 
on  the  long  voyage !" 

"What  are  you  gazing  at  so  ?"  asked  the  old  man 
at  her  side. 

"Nothing,  Father — a  ship  that  is  sailing — there, 
she  is  gone     .     .     ." 


In  Foo  Chow  Matthew  had  himself  rowed  ashore 
and   went   at   once   to'  Ah   Fung's   hong.     And 

207 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

in  that  same  room  where  his  father  had  sat  so  often 
with  the  Dutchman  and  their  host,  under  the  swing- 
ing punkahs,  he  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  a 
soft  footed,  gentle  voiced  old  man,  wrinkled  and 
yellowed  like  an  ancient  parchment,  nursing  his  long 
finger  nailed  hands  in  the  embroidered  folds  of  his 
jade  hung  blue  silk  gown. 

"I  am  Matthew  Parsons,  Sir,"  he  said.  "The  son 
of  Captain  Gamaliel  Parsons.  I  bring  you  my 
father's  most  affectionate  greetings,  and  my  own 
respects." 

"The  Gods  be  plaised,"  murmured  Ah  Fung. 
"After  many  years  the  memoly  of  other  days  lives 
again.  I  am  filled  with  joy,  o  hwan  hsi  deh  hen — 
Hsi  keh  lai  liao,  you  vely  welcome !" 

"Hsie  hsie  ni,  thank  you,  Sir,"  Matthew  smiled, 
proud  of  the  words  so  carefully  learned  from  his 
father,  and  the  Chinaman  chuckled  with  delight. 

"Ni  kan!"  he  exclaimed.  "See,  all  same  father, 
alleady  he  speak  the  flowely  tongue,  and  make  him 
smiling    .    .    ." 

So  they  sat  together  for  long  heedless  hours  and 
spoke  of  many  matters,  of  the  future  and  of  the 
pleasant  past,  and  of  the  present,  while  Ah  Fung 
clapped  his  hands  and  sent  his  pigtailed  boys  scurry- 

208 


THREADS  OF  ROMANCE 

ing  after  cheroots,  and  tea  and  sweetmeats,  to  set 
before  his  guest. 

".    .    .  tlade  him  glow  vely  fast  in  Olient !" 

"The  British,  Sir,  are  building  new  ships  all  the 
time  to  hold  out  against  our  opium  clippers " 

"It  is  the  Amelican  ships  that  come  vely  fast," 
laughed  Ah  Fung.  "Long  ago  Captain  van  den 
Bosch  he  pledict,  but  I  did  not  believe !" 

"Yes,  sir,  the  Houqua,  for  instance,  of  A.  A.  Low 
and  Brother " 

"She  is  named  for  my  fliend  Houqua,  the  mel- 
chant,  in  Canton !" 

"Yes,  Sir — under  Captain  Palmer  she  has  made 
some  splendid  voyages." 

"I  know — Captain  Palmer,  he  is  a  fliend  too. 
On  the  ship  Paul  Jones  he  make  him  first  coming." 

"Yes,  Sir,  in  Forty-two — he  commanded  the 
packets  Siddons  and  Garrick  before.  Well,  he  made 
the  run  from  Hong  Kong  to  New  York  in  ninety 
days,  Sir — fifteen  to  Java  Head,  and  then  seventy 
to  the  Equator  in  the  Atlantic  and  twenty  more  to 
New  York." 

"That  is  vely  fast  sailing !" 

"And  the  Sea  Witch,  Sir,  you  have  heard  what 
she  did  on  her  last  voyage  ?" 
*  209 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"The  Sea  Witch?  Him  belonging  Captain 
Watelman?" 

"Yes,  sir,  Captain  Waterman — used  to  com- 
mand the  packet  Natchez — he  came  from  Canton 
to  New  York  in  eighty-one  days!" 

"The  Gods  pleserve  us !" 

"Yes,  Sir — she  made  three  hundred  and  fifty- 
eight  miles  in  one  day,  that  is  a  record !  There  isn't 
a  steamship  afloat  can  make  such  speed." 

"Steaming  ship  not  much  good,"  remarked  Ah 
Fung.  "Never  make  him  do  better  than  sailing  ship. 
And  Amelica  make  him  best  sailing  ships  today." 

"I  certainly  think  that  the  future  of  America  is 
on  the  ocean,  Sir.  With  our  coast  line  and  ports, 
and  our  vast  stores  of  timber,  Sir,  it  is  only 
natural." 

"Captains  make  him  gleat  diffelence,  too,"  smiled 
Ah  Fung.  "Always  sail  him  ship  like  flying  dlagon ! 
In  the  old  days  with  your  father  it  was  all  same — 
see  him  masts  on  water  and  ship  him  undelneath  in 
ocean,  it  is  an  Amelican!" 

"That's  the  old  joke,  Sir!" 

"Today  it  is  all  same — Captain  Benjamin,  Cap- 
tain Dumalesq,  Captain  Potter,  Captain  Eldlidge, 
Captain  Watelman — all  same  flying  dlagons !" 

210 


THREADS  OF  ROMANCE 

"I  calculate  it's  in  the  blood,  Sir,  and  our  ships 
are  lighter  and  handier.  The  American  merchant 
marine  will  do  great  things,  I  think,  Sir,  in  another 
ten  or  twenty  years.  It  is  the  most  natural  outlet  for 
our  energies  and  resources." 

"Amelican  maline  him  glow  vely  fast,  yes?" 
"Soak  me,  Sir,  I  should  say  so!  There  is  over 
one  million  tons  of  American  merchant  shipping  re- 
gistered this  year.  Nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty 
American  vessels  came  into  New  York,  and  Boston, 
and  Salem  from  China  alone,  last  year." 

"Amelican  ships  him  evelywhere  like  cock- 
loaches!"  tittered  Ah  Fung.  "Captain  van  den 
Bosch,  he  make  him  pledict  it  would  be  so !" 

"Where  is  the  Captain,  Sir?     Is  he  still  here?" 

"Captain  make  him  leturn  to  Amsteldam,  five 

moons  ago,"  sighed  Ah  Fung.     "A  tlue  thing  he 

spoke  in  the  old  days,  no  plivacy  there  is  in  the 

Olient,  only  a  gleat  loneliness." 

"I  am  sorry,  I  would  have  admired  to  see  him." 

"Him  solly  too.     Many  times  he  speak  of  Tuan 

Palsons  and  of  the  son  he  plomised  to  send.     But 

now  he  has  leturned  to  Amsteldam,  and  I,  to  my 

ancestols  soon  I  will  leturn." 

"Oh,  soak  me,  Sir,  not  for  many  years  I  hope !" 
211 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Hee  hee !"  laughed  Ah  Fung.  "You  make  him 
soaking.  Father  him  always  say  Split  me,  and 
Pickle  my  eyes  in  bline  I" 

"Yes,  he  still  does — those  sayings  change  as  time 
goes  on." 

"Yes,  time  him  always  passing,  bling 
change    .    .    ." 

And  then  the  Chinaman  leaned  forward  suddenly, 
with  a  twinkle  in  his  old  eyes. 

"Blue  Min  Hsing  elephant?"  he  asked.  "Father 
make  him  keep?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  Sir.  At  least  I  have  it  now,  it's 
in  my  cabin  on  the  Mandarin.  I  hope  it  will  bring 
me  luck,  as  you  said!" 

"On  Mandolin  you  have?  I  lemember 
Mandolin'' 

"Yes,  Sir,  my  father  has  told  me  about  the 
stranded  junk  of  course." 

"He  make  telling  about  lacquer  box?" 

"No,  Sir,  he  has  never  said  anything  about  it, 
except  that  it  was  given  to  him  by  the  Shogun  in 
Yeddo,"  Matthew  replied,  hoping  that  the  China- 
man would  tell  him  more,  but  Ah  Fung  only  laughed 
and  nodded  his  head. 

"Him  say  Shogun  make  him  gift?" 
212 


THREADS  OF  ROMANCE 

"Yes,  Sir." 

"Hee  hee!"  he  exclaimed.  "He  had  wisdom. 
Hee  hee — I  make  gleat  laughing    .    .    ." 

"My  mother  has  the  box  at  home,  and  now  I 
have  the  elephant.  As  a  boy,  Sir,  I  was  always  very 
fond  of  it.    I  shall  always  keep  it." 

"Gleat  luck  he  bling  if  keeping,"  Ah  Fung  smiled. 

"And  a  blessing  if  I  have  wisdom  to  break  it  and 
throw  it  away  when  the  time  comes,"  Matthew 
smiled  back  at  him.  "I  know  the  prophecy,  Sir!" 
But  of  Maimunah's,  of  course,  he  said  nothing. 

"That  is  the  tluth — Father  make  him  lemember." 

"Yes  indeed,  Sir    .    .    ." 

A  few  days  later  Matthew  took  his  leave  of  Ah 
Fung. 

"I  have  some  trading  to  do,  Sir,  per — perkara, 
is  that  right?" 

"Pelkala,  yes " 

"I  will  return  to  Foo  Chow  before  sailing  for 
America,  to  see  you,  Sir." 

"I  will  await  your  coming,  son  of  my  fliend.  If 
the  ancestols  do  not  call — I  have  been  leady  for 
many  days  to  close  the  blidge." 

"Rubbish,  Sir — Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon  humbly !" 

"Hee  hee !"  laughed  Ah  Fung.  "All  same  father 
213 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

— 'Lubbish,  Ah  Fung,  do  not  talk  nonsense  I'  You 
bling  back  many  memolies !"  . 

"I  spoke  very  heedlessly!  Well,  goodbye,  Sir, 
for  the  present." 

"Goodbye,  my  fliend,  voyage  in  safety — in  the 
plesent,  and  in  the  days  that  follow.  The  Gods 
pleserve  you,  and  your  father  in  Amelica  who  always 
dwells  in  the  heart  of  Ah  Fung." 

"Hsie  hsie  ni,  thank  you,  Sir    .    .    ." 


Matthew  attended  to  various  enterprises  which 
Gamaliel  had  entrusted  to  his  care,  and  then  without 
saying  a  word  to  anybody  he  set  sail  for  Japan,  to 
Yeddo,  to  see  whether  the  oppasers  of  the  Shogun 
could  be  as  easily  impressed  with  gunpowder  as  in 
his  father's  day. 

"I  reckon  if  Father  could  do  it  in  the  Felicity 
Belle/'  he  said  to  himself,  "then  I  can  with  the 
Mandarin.  Soak  me,  I'd  admire  to  surprise  him 
with  a  cargo  of  copper !" 

"Where  do  you  calculate  to  fetch  up,  Cap- 
tain Parsons,  on  this  here,  now,  course?"  Mr. 
Stimson,  the  first  mate,  asked  him  casually  one 
morning. 

214 


THREADS  OF  ROMANCE 

"On  the  beach,  in  front  of  the  S  ho  gun's  castle, 
in  Yeddo  Bay,"  Matthew  grinned  at  him. 

"Sweet  sailor's  life!"  Mr.  Stimson  remarked. 
"I'd  best  be  polishing  up  those  brass  cannons !" 

They  polished  them,  and  scraped  and  trimmed  up 
ship  generally,  so  that  the  Mandarin  came  afloating 
into  Yeddo  Bay  with  her  metal  work  shining  and 
her  decks  creamy  with  holystone,  her  sheer  poles 
coach  whipped,  her  man  ropes  embellished  with 
rose  knots  and  cross  pointing,  and  with  brass  caps 
on  her  lanyard  knots  and  rigging  ends. 

"Oh,  she's  lovely  up  aloft, 
And  she's  lovely  down  below " 

Matthew  observed,  and  ordered  salutes  fired  every 
five  minutes,  until  the  Shogun  of  that  day  decided 
that  he  was  being  attacked.  But  when  the  smoke 
had  cleared  away,  and  the  sea  birds  had  all  returned 
to  their  breakfasts,  he  saw  that  it  was  only  another 
Suishi  Te  Koku  beikoku  no  come  to  Jihpun-Kwoh, 
and  sent  his  oppasers  out  in  sampans  to  talk  over 
affairs,  much  as  his  father  Iyebitsu  had  done  with 
Gamaliel. 

And  much  as  they  had  done  on  that  occasion, 
they  all  sat  around  solemnly  on  the  quarterdeck  for 

215 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

days  and  days,  and  finally  filled  the  Mandarin  with 
copper  and  silk,  while  Mr.  Stimson  spat  reflectively 
over  the  rail  and  tried  to  figure  out  how  much  his 
share  of  this  adventure  would  amount  to. 


But  while  these  highly  profitable  matters  were 
being  arranged,  there  came  a  hail  one  night  from 
alongside,  and  a  swift  sailing  Chinese  lorcher  slipped 
under  the  stern  of  the  Mandarin.  A  moment  later 
her  stearsman  stood  before  Matthew,  unwinding  his 
queue,  from  the  base  of  which  he  produced  a  letter. 

"From  the  Honorable  Ah  Fung,  to  the  son  who 
is  all  same  father,"  said  the  interpreter.  "There 
is  no  answer  .  .  ."  and  in  another  second  or  two 
the  lorcher  was  a  flying  shadow,  headed  out  for  the 
Japan  Sea. 

"Soak  me!"  Matthew  exclaimed.  "What  a  how 
do  you  do  is  this?" 

It  was  a  letter  from  Ah  Fung,  covered  with  his 
symbols  and  elephant  seals,  and  Matthew  grew  more 
and  more  perplexed  as  he  read  it. 

"To  my  friend,  and  the  son  of  my  friend,"  it  said. 
"By  the  hand  of  a  scribe,  greeting. 
216 


THREADS  OF  ROMANCE 

"The  setting  of  the  sun  in  Amoy  is  the  rising  of  the 
moon  in  Foo  Chow.  A  horse  neighs  in  Peking,  and 
behold  it  is  known  in  Canton.  The  gossip  of  friends 
on  an  evening  is  news  in  the  market  place  on  the  mor- 
row.   There  is  no  privacy  in  the  Orient. 

"The  eyes  and  ears  of  Ah  Fung  tell  him  that  you  have 
sailed  to  Yeddo,  all  same  father.  It  was  a  foolish  thing, 
but  now  the  tea  is  spilled  upon  the  ground,  and  the 
earth  has  swallowed  it. 

"Ah  Fung  writes  to  warn  you.  Do  not  go  ashore,  but 
if  you  do,  then  do  not  walk  in  gardens.  But  if  a 
summons  comes  from  the  Lady,  Hasu  No  Hana  San, 
the  Lotos  Flower,  daughter  of  the  Daimyo  Matsudaira, 
Lord  of  Echizen,  widow  of  the  Prince  of  Shikoku,  it 
is  wise  to  obey." 

"Ho  ho !"  Matthew  remarked.  "I'll  wager  the  lid 
is  lifted  from  the  lacquer  box — yes " 

"The  story  is  not  for  Ah  Fung  to  tell,  and  it  was  long 
ago  when  many  who  have  wisdom  now  were  young. 

"But  this  must  be  told.  That  it  was  from  the  hands 
of  the  Lady  Hasu  No  Hana  that  your  father  received 
the  lacquer  box. 

"It  was  a  gift  graciously  made,  and  worthy  of  grati- 
tude. There  was  in  it  also  that  which  Ah  Fung  saw 
her  place  there,  believing  that  it  would  please  your 
father.  It  was  in  a  garden  rilled  with  blossoming 
branches ! 

"If  you  have  wisdom,  you  will  know  what  to  answer 
to  her  questionings." 

217, 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Soak  me!"  Matthew  laughed.  "It  is  the  loose 
thread  of  a  romance  which  my  father  has  forgotten 
to  relate!  Luckily  I  looked  inside  the  box  when  I 
was  a  boy,  for  the  Chinaman  persists  in  his  riddles 
— ahoy,  what's  this " 

"Ah  Fung  sends  his  blessing  and  farewell.  The  an- 
cestors are  calling,  and  when  you  return  he  will  have 
crossed  the  bridge.    Today,  tomorrow  perhaps. 

"And  he  says  to  you,  keep  the  elephant,  do  not  be 
tempted  to  part  with  it  for  gain  or  for  love.  Keep 
it  always,  but  may  wisdom  be  yours  to  break  it  and 
throw  it  away  when  the  time  comes. 

"In  losing  it  of  free  will,  it  may  be  the  Gods  will 
grant  a  better  thing. 

"These  are  the  last  words  of  Ah  Fung,  to  the  son  of 
a  friend. 

"May  the  Gods  preserve  you,  and  give  you  wisdom, 
today,  tomorrow,  in  many  years  to  come." 

"I  should  have  stayed  in  Foo  Chow!"  Matthew 
cried.  "I  never  thought  the  end  was  so  near.  I 
would  have  admired  to  see  him  again — and  my 
father  will  be  deeply  grieved  .  .  .  And  now, 
soak  me,  what  does  all  this  mean?" 

But  for  all  his  soaking  Matthew  could  make 
neither  bow  nor  stern  out  of  it,  except  that  the  lac- 
quer box  had  not  been  given  to  his  father  by  the 

218 


THREADS  OF  ROMANCE 

Shogun,  which  did  not  surprise  him  so  very  much, 
and  that  if  the  Lady  Hasu  No  Hana  sent  for  him 
he  would  need  all  his  wits  about  him,  which  per- 
plexed him  a  good  deal,  for  he  understood  that  it 
would  be  a  matter  of  fingering  a  gossamer  cobweb 
without  destroying  it.  To  that  extent,  at  least, 
wisdom  was  his  already! 

Some  day,  in  some  far  off  place,  would  the  golden 
haired  girl  send  for  his  son,  and  ask  him  ques- 
tions   .    .    . 

And  the  next  morning,  across  the  blue  waters  of 
the  Bay,  the  summons  came.  Matthew  received  the 
retainers  gravely,  and  listened  in  silence  to  the 
droning  voice  of  the  interpreter. 

"I  will  read  the  message,"  the  latter  said, 

"The  Princess  of  Shikoku,  Hasu  No  Hana  San, 
daughter  of  the  Daimyo  Matsudaira,  Lord  of  Echizen, 
sends  greetings  to  the  American  admiral. 

"She  has  heard  that  in  years  and  appearance  he  re- 
sembles another  who  came  before,  and  the  name  he 
bears  is  one  she  has  remembered  from  another  day. 

"If  he  knows  of  the  lacquer  document  box,  then  it 
must  be  that  he  is  the  son  of  that  other,  who  stood  in 
the  garden  of  her  august  father's  palace  with  the  China- 
man, on  a  night  it  is  now  close  onto  thirty  summers  ago. 

"At  the  ending  of  the  way  of  life,  there  is  yet  time  for 
a  questioning  and  an  answer.    All  courtesy  awaits  the 

219 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

American  admiral  if  he  will  follow  the  bearer  of  the 
message.  Hasu  No  Hana  San,  who  made  the  ways  of 
departure  secure  for  the  father,  will  not  hinder  the 
going  of  the  son.  It  is  so  written  above  the  seals  of 
Shikoku  and  Echizen. 

"That  other  came  unbidden,  and  was  not  un- 
graciously received.  Will  the  son  receive  the  bidding 
of  Hasu  No  Hana  San  as  graciously  ?" 

"Soak  me,  but  they  all  talk  in  riddles  lM  Matthew 
thought  to  himself.  "How  did  she  make  the  ways 
of  departure  secure  for  my  father,  I'd  admire  to 
know — "  then  he  turned  to  the  interpreter.  "Am 
I  to  go  now  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  the  sampan  and  the  palanquin  await  us.  I 
will  accompany." 

"Very  well,  then,"  Matthew  ordered,  "say  to  the 
Lady  Hasu  No  Hana  that — that  I  have  been  await- 
ing her  permission  to  present  my  respects  to  her, 
that  it — it  was  my — my  father's  wish  that  I  do  so. 
.  .  .  Soak  me !"  he  finished  under  his  breath.  "I 
am  already  up  to  my  knights  heads  in  prevarication ! 
I  have  not  stammered  so  since  that  night  on  the 
Cygnet!"    .    .    . 

7 

It  was  a  very  brief  interview,  as  it  turned 
out  in  the  Antechamber  of  the  Thirty-two  Mats, 

220 


THREADS  OF  ROMANCE 

in  the  palace  of  the  Princess  Dowager  of  Shi- 
koku. 

"There  will  be  tea  to  drink,  ceremonial  tea.  Re- 
move the  shoes — "  warned  the  interpreter,  to  Mat- 
thew's great  embarrassment,  and  he  found  himself 
bowing  before  a  tiny  little  old  lady  in  a  heavily 
brocaded  kimono,  with  a  head  dress  decorated  with 
amber,  seated  on  a  dais  surrounded  by  her  ladies  in 
waiting,  all  of  them  flat  on  their  faces  at  his  stock- 
inged feet. 

In  a  corner  glowed  the  slow  fire  of  a  bronze  in- 
cense burner,  through  the  parted  screens  came  the 
scent  of  cherry  blossoms.  Somewhere,  in  a  hidden 
recess,  the  occasional  strains  of  a  melancholy  samisen 
shook  the  silence,  like  pebbles  dropped  into  a  pool. 
Above  the  dais  hung  gently  swinging  tapestries,  glit- 
tering with  the  embroidered  crests  of  Shikoku  and 
Echizen,  the  Silver  Dolphins  and  the  Gold  Circles. 

Matthew  hardly  noticed  these  things.  He  was 
looking  at  the  Lady  Hasu  No  Hana,  trying  to  pic- 
ture that  ancient  figure  as  it  might  have  appeared 
thirty  years  before.  She  seemed  very,  very  old, 
with  the  premature  aging  of  the  Orient,  an  ivory 
mask,  shadowed  with  wrinkles — but  there  was  a 
smiling  curve  to  the  lips,  a  mischievous  flash  in  the 

221 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

eyes,  a  daintiness  in  the  slender  hands,  which  re- 
mained to  whisper  to  Matthew  of  what  his  father 
had  found  in  the  garden  of  her  august  father's 
palace    .     .    . 

"Say  to  her  that  I  am  Matthew  Parsons,"  he 
told  the  interpreter.  "The  son  of  Gamaliel  Parsons, 
and  that  I — I  present  his — his  greetings    .    .    ." 

The  Lady  Hasu  No  Hana  stirred  and  smiled. 

"Gamarieru    Parusoniso  —  Matsu    Parusoniso 

"She  says,  the  face  is  the  same,  after  thirty 
years,"  chanted  the  interpreter.  "Only  the  name 
has  changed.  You  are  welcome,  and  the  greeting 
will  be  remembered.    There  is  a  question." 

"Yes?" 

"She  says,  did  the  American  Suishi  preserve  the 
box?" 

"Tell  her,  yes,  always.  He — he  prized  it  highly. 
He  has  often — often  spoken  of  it." 

"She  says,  the  words  are  as  rain  after  summer 
heat.    Has  he  spoken  of  the  giver  of  the  box?" 

"Tell  her,  yes,  he — he  has  often  spoken  of— of 
the  giver.  He  has  never  forgotten  .  .  .  Soak 
me!"  Matthew  thought.  "What  lies  I  am  telling! 
And  yet  I'll  wager  it's  true    .    .    ." 

222 


THREADS  OF  ROMANCE 

"She  says,  joy  brightens  the  sunset  of  life.  Did 
he  find  that  which  was  in  the  box  ?" 

"Tell  her,  yes — yes  he  did.  What  was  in  the  box 
was — was  found.  It  has  always  been  kept.  It  is 
in  the  box  now    .    .    .    Sinner's  redemption!" 

"She  says,  if  these  things  be  true,  the  son  can  tell 
what  was  in  the  box." 

Matthew  smiled  suddenly  at  the  Lady  Hasu  No 
Hana,  probably  just  as  Gamaliel  had  smiled  at  her 
once  long  ago. 

"Tell  her,  something  very — very  precious!  A — 
a  branch  of — of  flowers    .    .    ." 

There  was  silence  then,  while  twice  the  music  of 
the  samisen  echoed  plaintively,  and  the  Lady  Hasu 
No  Hana  smiled  at  the  son  whose  face  was  the 
face  of  that  other.  Then  she  frowned,  ever  so 
slightly,  as  at  a  puzzling  thought,  and  shook  her 
head,  ever  so  quickly,  as  at  the  dismissal  of  such  a 
thought. 

"She  says,  it  is  well  answered,"  came  the  words 
of  the  interpreter.  "He  deemed  the  branch  of 
flowers  precious !  She  is  pleased.  The  son  will  re- 
turn to  America,  and  say  to  the  father  that  memory 
lives,  while  the  branch  has  withered.  And  one 
thing  more." 

223 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"What?" 

"She  says,  the  father  will  understand.  The  son 
will  say,  from  Hasu  No  Hana  San,  at  the  ending 
of  the  way  of  life,  to  the  one  who  came  for  an  hour 
and  returned  to  the  sea,  omae  wa  suki  da!  That  is 
all." 

The  interview  was  over. 

"Soak  me,  but  I  would  admire  to  know  what 
passed  between  them!',  Matthew  said  to  himself 
afterwards.  "I  hope  I  said  the  right  thing.  What 
a  maze  of  matters  I  will  have  to  relate  to  my 
father    .    .    ." 

Three  days  later,  with  much  firing  of  guns  which 
were  heard  in  the  Shoguris  castle,  and  doubtless  in 
the  Antechamber  of  the  Thirty-two  Mats,  Matthew 
sailed  away,  to  Foo  Chow  to  pay  his  respects  at 
the  grave  of  Ah  Fung,  and  to  America 

".    .    .  Shenandoah,  I'll  ne'er  forget  you, 
Away,  you  rolling  river! 
Till  the  day  I  die,  I'll  love  you  ever, 
Away,  we're  bound  away, 
Across  the  wide  Missouri!" 


224 


CHAPTER  V 

MIDWINTER  MADNESS 

1 

A  Ji  ATTHEW  told  his  father  all  that  had  hap- 
***'  pened  on  the  voyage,  in  Foo  Chow  and  in 
Yeddo,  and  of  the  last  message  from  Ah  Fung. 

"  .  .he  wished  that  the  gods  would  preserve 
you,  Sir,  and  said  that  you  dwelt  always  in  his 
heart." 

"Split  me !"  Gamaliel  said  sadly.  "He  was  a  very 
upright  gentleman,  a  great  merchant  and  a  scholar. 
I  cannot  believe  that  he  is  no  longer  there  in  Foo 
Chow  in  his  hong,  smiling  and  courteous." 

"He  was  very  kind  to  me,  Sir,  and  pleased  to  see 
me  for  your  sake.    .    .    ." 

And  then  of  the  branch  in  the  lacquer  box,  and 
the  parting  words  of  the  Lady  Hasu  No  Hana. 

"She  asked  me  to  say  to  you,  Sir,  omae  wa  suki 
da.    She  said  that  you  would  understand.    And  that 
memory  lived  while  the  branch  was  withered." 
is  225 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Varnish  my  ends!"  Gamaliel  exclaimed  finally. 
"She  said  that  ?  Omae  wa  suki  da  .  .  .Yes,  I  un- 
derstand .  .  .  Pickle  me,  I  wish  you  could  have 
told  Ah  Fung !    He  would  have  laughed." 

"He  laughed  when  I  told  him  your  story  of  the 
box  and  the  Shogun,  Sir!"  Matthew  said  slyly. 
"You  never  said  that  Ah  Fung  had  been  with  you  to 
Yeddo!" 

"There  are  many  things  left  unspoken  in  a  life- 
time, lad !"  Gamaliel  replied.  "He  never  said  that 
she  had  put  anything  in  the  box !" 

He  sat  for  a  long  time,  smiling  at  the  fire,  and 
then  he  fetched  the  lacquer  box  from  the  other  room, 
and  undid  the  heavy  silk  cords,  and  took  out  the 
withered  branch. 

"It  is  a  jobako,  a  document  box — she  gave  it  to 
me  to  take  a  greeting  from  the  great  Daimyo  Matsu- 
daira  to  the  Shogun  in  America — I  would  have  ad- 
mired to  know  the  nature  of  the  greeting !  Split  me 
— after  all  these  years — fid  re  id  re  I  do  .  .  ." 

"How  did  she  make  the  ways  of  departure  se- 
cure for  you,  Sir?" 

"I  calculate  that  is  a  figure  of  speech,  my  son!" 
Gamaliel  said  to  him,  and  put  the  branch  back  in  the 
box. 

226 


MIDWINTER  MADNESS 

And  he  did  not  tell  his  son  anything  more  of  that 
night  on  which  he  had  stood  in  the  garden  of  her 
august  father,  the  Lord  of  Echizen,  surrounded  by 
grimacing  warriors,  and  for  some  reason  Mat- 
thew did  not  question  him  about  it  further,  although 
he  was  convinced  that  there  was  much  to  hear.  In 
the  first  place,  she  herself  had  said  that  his  father 
had  come  unbidden ! 

"I  would  admire  very  much  to  know,"  he  thought. 
"But  it  is  better  to  wait  until  he  tells  me  of  his  own 
accord.  He  has  never  questioned  me  about  a  certain 
matter    ..." 


And  in  any  case  they  had  more  pressing  things  to 
discuss,  for  when  Matthew  returned  to  New  York 
in  that  December  of  Forty-eight,  he  found  the  city 
in  a  turmoil  of  excitement. 

People  were  talking  of  nothing  else,  in  the  restau- 
rants, and  in  omnibuses,  and  in  the  shops.  Even 
at  Mr.  Stringer's  for  instance,  where  Matthew  was 
loitering  over  a  copy  of  Madelina  or  the  Rag  Picker's 
Daughter,  and  wondering  whether  to  purchase  The 
Keepsake  of  Friendship  and  The  Rose  of  Sharon 

227 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

for  his  mother,  or  go  over  to  Mr.  Bedford's  for 
Godey's  Lady's  Book  and  perhaps  The  Female  Poets 
of  America,  along  with  Frank  Foster's  Field  Sports 
for  his  father. 

"Have  you  heard  the  exciting  news  .  .  .  my 
cousin  has  gone  in  the  first  steam  packet  to  the  Isth- 
mus ...  the  Government  has  confirmed  it,  there 
can  be  no  doubt    .    .    ." 

Of  course  no  one  had  taken  any  particular  stock 
in  the  affair  at  first.  Seafaring  men  were  always 
full  of  pleasantries,  entertaining  enough  to  listen  to 
around  a  bowl  of  egg-nogg,  but  not  to  be  taken 
seriously.  Like  that  latest  tale  of  Captain  Logan's 
concerning  his  packet  Cygnet. 

".  .  .  made  such  speed,  gentlemen,  on  her  last 
voyage,  she  rose  out  of  the  water  and  sailed  through 
the  air  like  a  bird,  to  the  wonder  of  all  beholders !" 

To  the  wonder  of  all  beholders,  yes  indeed! 
Captain  Logan  was  always  a  good  one  at  that  sort 
of  thing,  blood-curdling  imaginary  mutinies  aboard 
non-existent  vessels,  adrift  in  tropical  bays  which  it 
would  have  taken  the  utmost  knowledge,  almost  a 
match  for  Captain  Johnson  with  his  famous  yarns 
of  geographers,  to  locate. 

"Springs  a  yarn  as  easily  as  one  of  those  floating 
228 


MIDWINTER  MADNESS 

butcher  shops  out  of  New  Bedford  springs  a  leak !" 
as  someone  once  said  of  him. 

Which  was  a  gross  slander  on  the  "floating 
butcher  shops,' '  but  of  course  every  last  wisp  of  a 
boy  on  a  lordly  packet  had  to  spit  over  the  rail  at  the 
mere  thought  of  a  whaler! 

"Oh,  poor  Reuben  Ranzo, 
Ranzo,  boys,  Ranzo, 
Oh,  Ranzo  was  no  sailor, 
Ranzo,  boys,  Ranzo, 
So  they  shipped  him  aboard  a  whaler    .    .    ." 

And  so  with  this  latest  yarn  floating  around  the 
taverns  and  the  counting  rooms,  there  was  no  truth 
in  it  very  likely. 

To  be  sure,  the  Sunfish  had  come  in  from  the 
Sandwich  Isles  all  goggle  eyed  over  the  news — but 
then  it  was  she  had  brought  back  that  monumental 
story  the  year  before  about  the  mermaids  off 
Diamond  Head!  And  there  had  also  been  a  piece 
about  it  in  the  Baltimore  Sun,  back  there  in  Sep- 
tember. But  it  was  all  very  far  away  and  highly  im- 
probable. The  results  of  the  Presidential  election 
between  General  Taylor  and  Mr.  Cass  were  in- 
finitely more  engrossing,  and  in  a  sure  Whig  year  at 

229 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

that,  in  spite  of  Mr.   Van  Buren  and  the  Barn 
Burners. 

The  placid  surface  of  the  social  gatherings  at  the 
Astor  House  was  hardly  ruffled,  and  the  outcome 
of  the  race  home  between  the  Black  Ball  and 
Dramatic  packets  aroused  far  greater  interest,  for 
instance. 

"Two  hundred  dollars  to  one  hundred  on  the  Cyg- 
net, Sir — eastbound  or  westbound,  play  or  pay — 
barring  perils  of  the  deep  and  the  hand  of  God, 
or  the  acts  of  king's  enemies    .    .     ." 

".  .  .  there  is  a  rumor  that  the  British  are  to 
repeal  their  navigation  laws — it  will  open  up  the  tea 
trade  to  us " 

"We  fear  the  Rainbow  is  lost,  gentlemen,  she  is 
long  overdue  in  Valparaiso    .    .    ." 

"Valparaiso — Bob  Waterman  has  taken  his  Sea 
Witch  there  in  sixty-nine  days — on  her  third  voy- 
age " 

"Have  you  heard  of  the  new  packets  young 
McKay  is  building  up  at  Boston  for  Mr.  Train's 
Liverpool  Line — the  Ocean  Monarch  and  the 
Anglo  American?" 

"He  built  the  Anglo  Saxon  and  the  Washington 
Irving  for  Train  before." 

230 


MIDWINTER  MADNESS 

"Why,  he  made  their  first  ship,  at  Newburyport, 
the  Joshua  Bates,  in  Forty- four.  Train  was  so  well 
pleased  with  her  he  took  McKay  up  to  Boston  with 
him  to  open  a  new  shipyard.  He's  a  smart  designer 
from  all  accounts." 

"Donald  McKay?  I  consider  him  the  foremost 
of  our  builders  today.  He  will  turn  out  some  of  the 
finest  ships  in  this  country,  you  mark  my 
words    ..." 

And  then  on  a  sudden  morning  the  news  broke 
along  the  waterfront,  with  the  arrival  of  the  latest 
ship.  They  had  samples  of  it  aboard  for  all  to  see. 
It  was  undeniably  true.  They  had  found  it  at  Sut- 
ter's Sawmill,  near  the  Fort.  That  had  been  way 
back  in  January,  and  now  it  was  pouring  in. 

"Gold!  Gold!  There's  gold  in  Calif ornia !  It's 
everywhere.    All  you  have  to  do  is  pick  it  up !" 

Across  the  Battery,  up  the  busy  length  of  South 
Street  where  the  booms  and  figureheads  of  the 
stately  ships  were  drawn  up  like  a  forest,  in  and  out 
of  the  counting  rooms,  among  the  mansions  of  the 
merchant  princes,  up  Broadway  to  the  Astor  House, 
all  around  the  Bowling  Green,  down  Bridge  Street, 
and  State  Street,  and  Whitehall  Street,  through  Ann 
Street,  and  Cherry  Street,  and  Flower  Street — the 

231 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

news  went  leaping,  twisting  and  turning  like  a  trail 
of  flame. 

Gold!    Gold!    Gold! 

The  magic  word  of  the  ages,  to  stir  the  blood  and 
fire  the  imagination  with  the  glitter  of  its  romance. 
The  Spanish  Main,  the  treasures  of  the  Indies, 
buried  loot  of  scarcely  forgotten  corsairs — and  now, 
there  was  gold  in  California,  it  was  pouring  into 
Yerba  Buena — what  did  they  call  it  now,  San  Fran- 
cisco— the  Golden  Gates  were  open,  El  Dorado  was 
found! 

"It's  everywhere,"  men  told  one  another. 
"There's  so  much  of  it,  it's  easier  to  dig  for  it  than 
wish  for  it!" 

"It's  in  the  rocks,  it's  in  the  rivers,  it's  in  the 
sand!"  other  men  replied.  "It's  in  the  roots  of 
bushes    .    .    ." 

".    .    .  there's  gold  dropping  from  the  trees !" 

"In  a  high  wind  it  blows  in  your  eye    .    .    ." 

"The  shells  of  the  eggs  the  birds  lay  out  there 
are  coated  with  gold!" 

"There  are  solid  mountains  of  it  that  dazzle  your 
eyes !" 

".  .  .  you  get  yellow  up  to  your  knees  from  just 
walking  in  it !" 

232 


MIDWINTER  MADNESS 

"You  can't  wash  in  the  river  water,  it's  so  gritty 
with  gold,  and  you  have  to  strain  it  before  you  can 
drink  it." 

"They  pick  it  out  of  the  rocks  with  pocket  knives, 
they  scoop  it  out  of  the  streams  with  spoons,  they 
shake  it  out  of  their  beards  at  night." 

"One  man  alone  made  twenty  thousand  dollars  in 
eight  days  just  passing  his  forefinger  along  the 
spokes  of  wagon  wheels  out  there  in  the  diggings." 

"I  tell  you,  they  spit  gold  out  there  in  California!" 

Gold!    Gold!    Gold! 

3 

"Soak  me!"  Matthew  exclaimed  to  his  father. 

"The  town  is  gone  loony  over  this  gold  discovery. 

It  is  a  madness,  a  midwinter  madness !" 
"The  news  is  very  surprising,  certainly." 
"Have  you  seen  the  Tribune  for  today,  Sir — 

'HO  FOR  CALIFORNIA' 
THE  GOLD  EXCITEMENT' 

on  the  front  page,  Sir,  in  headlines  fully  one  eighth 
of  an  inch  high — it  is  as  though  a  packet  had  been 
lost  at  sea !" 

"It  is  a  mistake  to  stir  the  people  up  so—" 
233 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"It  says— 

'The  rage  for  speculation  and  adventure  aroused  by 
the  exciting  despatches  from  California  exceeds  any- 
thing of  the  kind  ever  witnessed  in  this  country. 

'The  last  advices  from  San  Francisco  will  decide 
hundreds  who  are  now  hesitating,  and  increase  still 
more  the  vast  tide  of  emigration  setting  from  all 
quarters  towards  the  Pacific  Coast/ 

Here  it  is  again,  Sir,  in  the  next  column,  in  staring 
type— 

'HIGHLY  IMPORTANT 

'FROM  THE  CALIFORNIA  GOLD  RE- 
GION' 

'GOLD  FOUND  IN  LUMPS  OF  16  TO  25 
POUNDS' 

'GOLD  TO  AN  IMMENSE  AMOUNT 
OBTAINED  BY  DIGGING  AND  WASHING." 

"I  calculate  it's  a  lot  of  slack  they  are  paying 
out!" 

"There  must  be  some  foundation  for  it,  Sir,  or 
they  would  not  print  it  in  the  paper.  It  is  under 
the  Courier's  news  from  Washington." 

"Split  me,  but  true  or  not  the  fever  has  bitten 
even  the  most  prudent,"  Gamaliel  told  him. 
"Among  the  counting  rooms  the  talk  is  all  of  in- 
vestment and  stock  companies  in  mining  ventures. 

234 


MIDWINTER  MADNESS 

At  Low's  and  Griswold's  and  Coleman  and  Com- 
pany they  speak  of  nothing  else." 

"Yes,  Sir — I  was  at  Sutton's  this  morning,  and 
Mr.  Earl  was  there,  and  Mr.  Wells  of  Wells  and 
Emanuel,  and  they  were  talking  of  it" 

"I  see  the  notices  every  day.  There  is  nothing 
but  the  name  of  California  staring  at  you  from 
every  corner." 

"Why,  even  the  trades  people  make  use  of  it, 
Sir,  to  advertise  their  goods,"  laughed  Matthew. 
"Ho  for  California!  Have  you  thought  of  provid- 
ing yourselves  with  matches — Here  is  one,  Sir, 
under  my  eye — 

'Calif  ornians !     Ho!     Hist!     Attention! 
Our  rubber  boats  and  tents  are 
unsurpassed.    You  can  not  face  the 
gold  rivers  without  a  rubber  suit!' 

I  doubt  not  many  will  buy  rubber  suits  and  forget 
their  picks!" 

"Split  me,  do  they  think  gold  is  got  by  swim- 
ming !  No  doubt  they  will  do  an  enormous  trade," 
Gamaliel  remarked.  "I  am  told  that  some  of  our 
leading  citizens  are  preparing  to  undertake  the 
journey.     Pickle  me,  but  I  fear  many  are  doomed 

235 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

to  disappointment.  There  can  not  be  so  much  gold 
as  all  that !" 

"It  is  a  contagion,  Sir.  The  modish  thing  to  do 
is  to  form  an  association,  and  pool  resources." 

"That  will  be  a  golden  gate  open  to  swindlers !" 

"Oh,  the  papers  are  filled  with  their  notices.  Here, 
Sir,  today — The  New  York  and  California  Mining 
and  Trading  Association — the  Ohio  California 
Overland  Association — Here  is  even  The  Nantucket 
and  California  Company — that  will  knock  the  whal- 
ing industry  into  a  doiy!" 

"Split  me !" 

"Look,  Sir 

'The  New  England  Pioneer,  a  company  of  twelve 
respectable ' 

they  do  a  smart  of  protesting  over  respectability 
always 

'.  .  .  twelve  respectable  young  gentlemen  from  Hart- 
ford will  make  the  journey  to  the  California  gold 
region.  The  company  will  go  armed  with  proper 
defensive  weapons,  and  take  with  them  a  tent/ 

Soak  me,  but  I  fear  they  are  poorly  provisioned  for 
such  a  journey!  Respectability  and  a  tent  will  not 
be  sufficient.' ' 

236 


MIDWINTER  MADNESS 

"Perhaps  you  will  be  catching  the  fever  and  leav- 
ing us  ?"  Gamaliel  smiled.  "The  thought  of  gold  so 
easily  obtained  will  turn  your  mind.  Split  me,  but 
I  calculate  at  your  age  I  would  have  risked  it !" 

Gold  indeed,  Matthew  thought  to  himself  I  There 
was  but  one  kind  of  gold  that  he  cared  anything 
about,  and  that  was  the  gold  in  that  girl's  hair — and 
he  had  found  that  only  to  lose  it  forever. 

"For  the  gold  I  do  not  give  a  split  topsail,"  he  in- 
formed his  father.  "But  I  do  not  doubt  that  in 
marine  affairs  it  will  have  an  influence.  You  will 
see  a  greater  activity  than  ever  before  in  the  ship- 
yards. Why,  there  are  not  hulls  enough  now  to 
accommodate  the  passengers,  and  freight  will  in- 
crease in  proportion." 

"If  they  only  take  rubber  tents  and  pistols  with 
them,  there  will  be  need  of  food  and  clothing  later, 
that  is  certain !  I  understand  Webb,  and  Smith  and 
Dimon,  and  Bell,  and  McKay,  and  all  the  rest  of 
them,  are  already  busy  designing  new  ships  for  this 
California  trade." 

"I  am  certain  of  it — Bucklin  and  Crane,  and 
Goodhue,  and  War  die — oh,  all  of  them — the  Lows, 
and  Grinnell  and  Minturn — they  are  all  ordering." 

"We  are  building  ourselves " 

237 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Exactly — why,  look,  Sir,  in  today'9  paper,  there 
are  already  one,  two,  three,  six,  nine,  twelve — nine- 
teen notices  of  steam  and  sail  packets  leaving  for 
California — Tor  the  Gold  District' — 'Gold  and  Cali- 
fornia'— Tor  Chagres  Direct' — that  is  the  Panama 
rout 

"  '.  .  .  splendid  fast  sailing  packet  ships' — So 
they  all  say,  although  some  of  them  have  been  sail- 
ing on  a  beach  for  the  last  years ! 

'Passengers  may  use  the  ship  as  a  home  and  a  store- 
house in  California,  as  she  will  wait  for  several  months 
before  returning  to  New  York.' 

"Split  me,  but  the  master  of  a  ship  will  need  to 
be  a  hotel  proprietor  as  well !" 

"They  are  packing  them  in  like  freight  aboard 
a  slaver 

'First  Cabin  passengers  for  $250.00.  Second  Cabin 
— all  between  decks  fitted  up  with  berths,  mattresses, 
floors  carpeted,  all  conveniences  and  comforts — 
$200.00/ 

I  have  yet  to  see  a  comfortable  between  decks ! 

Those  wishing  to  furnish  themselves  with  bedding 
and  provisions  can  have  a  portion  of  the  between  decks 

238 


MIDWINTER  MADNESS 

parted  off  for  a  charge  of  $100.00.  Baths,  fuel  and 
water  found/ 

It  says  nothing  of  rats  and  cockroaches,  but  I  do  not 
doubt  they  will  be  'found'  also  I" 

"Well,  pickle  me,  I  had  thought  that  the  mer- 
chant marine  had  reached  its  zenith,  with  the 
packets  and  the  China  fleets,  but  this  will  set  them 
all  going  again  by  the  run  I" 

"There  is  no  doubt  of  it,  Sir.  We  are  entering 
into  an  era  of  shipping  in  America  which  will  place 
us  forever  in  the  forefront  of  maritime  affairs.  We 
will  have  only  ourselves  to  blame  if  we  do  not  remain 
there — but,  soak  me,  there  is  little  chance  of  that 
now    .    .    ." 


It  was  quite  true  of  course.  On  all  sides  men 
spoke  of  nothing  else,  in  eager  groups,  while  house- 
wives fretted  over  tardy  suppers,  as  it  was  in  the 
beginning,  is  now,  and  ever  shall  be.  And  young 
dandies  laid  aside  their  broad  plaid  trousers  and 
white  beaver  hats  to  purchase  red  shirts  and  bowie 
knives,  or  at  least  a  rubber  tent,  and  spoke  familiarly 
of  California,  and  of  riches  to  be  gained  there  and 
adventures  to  be  shared. 

239 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Where  is  this  California?  Have  you  ever  heard 
of  it  before  ?" 

"Why,  yes.  Whaling  ships  and  hide  carriers  have 
been  putting  into  Yerba  Buena  for  years — San 
Francisco  that  is — for  water  and  supplies.  It  is  just 
a  collection  of  shacks  on  the  beach    .    .    ." 

"It  had  a  population  of  some  two  hundred  in 
Forty-six  when  we  annexed  it  from  Mexico.' ' 

".  .  .  the  way  is  out  to  the  Mississippi,  and  then 
across  the  plains  to  Sutter's — it  was  there  James 
Marshall  found  it  first  when  they  were  building  the 
sawmill." 

"They  will  be  building  ships  now,  and  competing 
with  us    .    .     ." 

"But  it  was  the  Mormon,  Brannan,  who  first  pub- 
lished the  news.  It  was  in  the  Star  it  was  first 
announced.  By  nightfall  there  was  not  a  man, 
woman,  or  child  left  in  town!" 

"Shop,  wharves,  ships,  they  abandoned  every- 
thing  " 

"So  would  we  have  done  if  gold  had  been  found 
in  the  highlands  of  the  Hudson !" 

".  .  .  well,  in  my  opinion  the  Overland  route  is 
a  dreary  one,  and  much  imperilled  by  savages.  It 
is  estimated  the  journey  will  require  five  months,  in 

240 


MIDWINTER  MADNESS 

wagons,  and  that  is  only  to  Sutter's  Fort.  I  would 
prefer  to  go  around  the  Horn  direct  to  San  Fran- 
cisco." 

"To  be  confined  to  a  ship  for  so  long  a  time  would 
be  as  wearisome  as  by  the  Overland  route,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  perils  of  the  sea.  No,  if  you  ask  me, 
the  Isthmus  is  my  choice " 

"Ah,  yes,  to  Chagres,  and  a  brief  journey  over- 
land to  Panama  City,  and  then  a  quick  passage 
North  to  San  Francisco  on  a  Pacific  Mail  packet." 

"A  continuous  passage  is  what  it  amounts  to,  the 
shipping  agent  assures  me,  and  the  trip  across  the 
Isthmus  to  break  the  monotony  of  the  voyage." 

"Yes,  I  have  enquired  into  it.  You  go  in  small 
boats  up  the  river,  from  Chagres  to  Cruces,  although 
many  prefer  to  go  ashore  at  Gorgona  to  take  the 
trail  for  Panama " 

"Is  it  a  journey  on  mules?  I  am  told  it  is  very 
picturesque.,, 

"I  would  not  be  so  sure.  I  have  heard  the  con- 
gestion is  very  great,  both  at  Chagres  and  at  Panama 
City,  and  the  accommodations  leave  much  to  be 
desired." 

"It  is  true  there  is  no  floor  to  the  hotel  at 
Chagres !" 

16  241 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Well,  you  would  not  expect  to  find  the  Astor 
House  waiting  to  receive  you " 

".  .  .  there  are  not  boats  in  sufficient  numbers 
for  the  trip  up  the  river,  and  the  mules  are  lacking 
also,  so  I  am  informed.  And  you  know  as  well  as 
I  that  the  majority  of  the  packets  are  on  the  Atlantic 
side,  so  that  there  is  bound  to  be  tedious  delay  at 
Panama." 

"Oh,  on  the  contrary,  Sir,  the  agent  assures  me 
that  you  are  taken  aboard  at  once.  But  in  any  case  I 
consider  the  Chagres  Panama  route  superior  to  the 
voyage  around  the  Horn,  or  the  journey  across  the 
plains,  both  in  point  of  speed  and  of  comfort  ..." 

Yes,  indeed!  Chagres,  Sutter's,  the  Plains, 
Panama — brave,  high  sounding  names  all  of  them. 
But  it  was  really  the  Song  that  sent  them  storming 
the  wharves,  flooding  the  decks  of  every  tub  that 
could  be  made  to  float,  roaring  down  through  the 
Narrows  on  their  way  to  El  Dorado. 

The  Song  which  Matthew  improvised,  and  which 
another  sang  one  evening  at  the  Pacific  Garden. 


242 


CHAPTER    VI 

A  SONG  IN  THE  MORNING 

1 

IT  all  began  with  a  party  of  gentlemen  up  at  the 
Astor  House,  in  January  Forty-nine,  at  a  private 
dinner  tendered  to  Matthew  by  Captain  Logan. 
Matthew  had  just  recently  been  given  his  Captaincy 
with  the  firm  of  Parsons  and  Moore,  to  take  com- 
mand of  one  of  their  new  ships,  and  nothing  short 
of  a  banquet  would  serve  to  celebrate  the  occasion. 

In  one  of  the  smaller  dining  rooms,  looking  out 
on  the  interior  quadrangle  where  the  fountain  played 
in  summer,  in  that  vast  and  elegantly  ornate 
hostelry,  with  its  five  stories  of  Quincy  granite,  its 
classical  portico,  and  its  three  hundred  luxurious 
dollar  a  day  rooms,  to  which  the  newspapers  still 
referred  as 

".  .  .  that  simple  and  chaste,  though  massive  establish- 
ment which  for  centuries  to  come  will  serve  as  a 
monument  to  the  wealth  of  its  proprietor    .    .    ." 

243 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Under  the  beautiful  painted  ceiling  with  the  gilded 
mouldings,  from  which  the  shaded  light  of  ground 
glass  chandeliers  shone  on  the  carved  gilt  panels,  the 
crimon  damask  hangings  and  satin  ottomans,  and  the 
jasper  veined  marble  topped  tables  encrusted  with 
arabesques  with  which  the  room  was  furnished,  and 
was  reflected  from  a  glittering  array  of  gold  framed 
plate  glass  mirrors. 

Before  a  gleaming  board  set  out  with  silver 
epergnes  and  cut  glass,  whose  specially  printed  bill  of 
fare  promised  soup,  and  turkey  with  oysters,  and 
ballon  de  mouton  aux  totnates,  and  rolleau  de  veau  a 
la  jardiniere,  and  sorbets  and  cream  puffs  and  all 
manner  of  further  delicacies.  And  a  rum  punch  con- 
cocted by  Captain  Logan  himself,  to  follow  the  hail 
storms  and  the  champagne. 

".  .  .  to  the  late  dandy  mate  of  the  packet 
Cygnet''  he  boomed  down  the  long  table  when  the 
time  came  for  the  toasts,  as  though  he  had  been 
standing  on  the  break  of  his  quarterdeck.  "A  lad 
who  has  licked  his  weight  in  wild  cats,  and  proved 
his  worth  as  a  sailor  and  a  gentleman    .    .    ." 

"Hear,  hear!" 

"To  the  new  Parsons  and  Moore  ship,  and  her 
new  commander,  an  ornament  to  the  American  Mer- 

244 


A  SONG  IN  THE  MORNING 

chant  Marine,  as  was  his  father  before  him.  Gentle- 
man, I  give  you  Captain  Parsons,  Handsome  Mat 
Parsons    .    .    ." 

They  drank  it  in  bumpers,  with  cheers,  and  forced 
Matthew  to  make  a  speech,  which  reminded 
Gamaliel  a  good  deal  of  the  one  he  had  made  at  the 
S  ho  gun's  banquet  in  Yeddo,  and  then  they  put  him 
at  the  pianoforte  and  made  him  sing,  for  Mat- 
thew could  "strike  a  light' '  with  any  chanty  man 
afloat. 

With  a  smile  at  Captain  Logan  he  led  them  first 
in  The  Flash  Packet,  with  its  swinging  chorus 

"'Tis  of  a  flash  packet  of  bully  boy  fame, 
Bound  away!    Bound  away! 
She  sails  from  the  Mersey,  the  Cygnet's  her  name, 
Bound  away!    Bound  away! 

She  sails  from  the  Mersey,  where  broad  waters  flow, 
She's  a  Liverpool  packet,  oh,  Lord,  let  her  go ! 

Bound  away,  bound  away, 
Where  the  stormy  winds  blow, 
She's  a  Liverpool  packet, 
Oh,  Lord,  let  her  go!" 

"First  rate,  first  rate !"  they  applauded.  "Here's 
to  you,  Captain  Logan,  Sir — strike  up  an- 
other   .    .    ." 

245 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

So  Matthew  tilted  back  his  head,  and  sang  them 
the  new  one  that  had  just  come  over  from  London, 
to  the  tune  of  Yankee  Doodle 

"Now's  the  time  to  change  your  clime, 
Give  up  work  and  tasking, 
Yankee  Doodle  all  agog 
With  the  golden  mania — 
California's  precious  earth, 
Turns  the  whole  world  frantic, 
Sell  your  traps  and  take  a  berth 
Across  the  wild  Atlantic — 

Everyone  who  digs  and  delves, 

All  whose  arms  are  brawny, 

Take  a  pick  and  help  yourselves 

Off  to  Calif orny!" 

"Bravo,  bravo,  Matthew!" 
"Is  there  a  second  verse  ?" 
"Yes,  let's  have  another!" 
"Yes — let's  see,  how  does  it  go 


"Gold  is  got  in  pan  and  pot, 
Soup  tureen  and  ladle, 
Basket,  bird  cage,  and  what  not, 
Even  to  a  cradle " 

"Hear,  hear !    That's  very  comical !    What  is  that 

last " 

246 


A  SONG  IN  THE  MORNING 

".    .    .  basket,  bird  cage,  and  what  not, 
Even  to  a  cradle — 
El  Dorado's  found  at  last, 
Turba  sed  vivorum, 
Lose  their  dazzled  heads  as  fast 
As  Raleigh  did  before  'em — 

Choose  your  able  bodied  men, 

Navvies  bold  and  brawny, 

Give  them  picks  and  spades  and  then, 

Off  to  Californyr 

"Ha !  Ha !  Off  to  Calif orny— that's  a  good  one, 
Mat!" 

"Split  me !"  Gamaliel  laughed.  "With  such  a  song 
as  that  sounding  in  my  ears  I  would  be  off  myself !" 

"Take  your  Mandarin"  Captain  Logan  offered. 
"And  I'll  race  you  around  the  Horn  in  the  Cygnet!" 

"What  is  the  stake?" 

"The  stake — well,  let  us  say  all  the  gold  the  loser 
can  dig  up  in  the  number  of  days  he  is  beaten  by  1" 

"Rum  and  hornets,  gentlemen,  it  would  be  an  in- 
teresting wager !" 

"What  odds  will  you  give  me  ?" 

"Odds!  Great  jumping  cat  fish!  Gentlemen — 
Captain  Parsons  senior  is  asking  odds!" 

"Well,  pickle  me,  the  Mandarin  is  a  fast  ship,  but 
she  sails  on  the  water — I  have  been  told  that  your 

247 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Cygnet  has  fits  of  sailing  through  the  air!  I  can 
not  compete  on  even  terms  with  an  air  ship !" 

"Ha!    Ha!    Air  ship— that  is  good " 

"Captain  Parsons  has  you  amidships,  Sir!  You 
can  not  deny  it " 

"I  must  submit  to  be  towed  into  port  this  time !" 
Captain  Logan  admitted.  "Waiter,  take  the  orders 
for  these  gentlemen — But  it  would  be  an  absorbing 
race !  And  if  I  do  sail  through  the  air,  I  would  let 
you  take  Matthew  along  as  first  officer,  which  would 
even  matters  up!" 

"Soak  me!"  Matthew  grinned.  "What  are  you 
saying?  It  is  I  would  be  Captain,  and  Father,  there, 
mate!  Why,  he  would  not  know  how  to  fill  out 
Lieutenant  Maury's  new  Log  Book,  I'll  wager!" 

"I  calculate  you  will  be  asking  for  a  tow  along 
with  me,  Gamaliel!"  Captain  Logan  remarked. 
"But  I  must  get  hold  of  Bob  Waterman,  and  Nat 
Palmer  perhaps,  and  have  them  take  out  their  old 
packets  and  chase  me  around  the  Horn    .    .    ." 


And  then  after  a  while  they  got  Matthew  to  sing 
that  catchy  new  song  of  Mr.  Foster's,  with  the  lilting 

refrain 

248 


A  SONG  IN  THE  MORNING 

"I  come  from  Alabama 
With  my  banjo  on  my  knee, 
I'm  gwan  to  Lou'siana 
My  true  love  for  to  see ! 
It  rained  all  night  the  day  I  left, 
The  weather  it  was  dry, 
The  sun  so  hot  I  froze  to  death, 
Susanna,  don't  you  cry. 

Oh,  Susanna, 

Don't  you  cry  for  me, 

I  come  from  Alabama 

With  my  banjo  on  my  knee.    .    .    ." 

They  all  joined  in  on  the  chorus,  and  as  Matthew 
swung  into  the  next  verse  his  thoughts  were  far 
away 

"Oh,  when  I  gets  to  New  Orleans 
I'll  look  all  round  and  round, 
And  when  I  find  Susanna 
I'll  fall  right  on  the  ground ! 
But  if  I  do  not  find  her 
This  darkie'll  surely  die, 
And  when  I'm  dead  and  buried, 
Susanna,  don't  you  cry. 

Oh,  Susanna, 
Don't  you  cry  for  me, 
I  come  from  Alabama 
With  my  banjo  on  my  knee." 
249 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Oh,  Susanna,  don't  you  cry  for  me!"  someone 
sang  out  from  across  the  room.  "I'm  off  for  Cali- 
fornia with  my  banjo  on  my  knee!" 

"Hear,  hear!"  everybody  laughed.  "I'm  off  for 
California!    The  words  fit  right  in  too." 

"But  you  would  never  take  a  banjo  to  California," 
objected  Matthew.  "A  rubber  tent,  but  not  a  banjo ! 
Let's  see,  I'm  off  to  California,  with  my — my " 

"What  are  those  things  they  sift  the  sand  in  out 
there?"  asked  Captain  Logan.  "Dish  pans,  wash 
bowls    .     .     ." 

"With  my  washbowl  on  my  knee,"  Matthew 
hummed.    "Soak  me,  that  fits  all  right 

"Oh,  Susanna, 
Don't  you  cry  for  me, 
I'm  off  for  California 
With  my  wash  bowl  on  my  knee!" 

"Hurrah  Mat!"  they  shouted.  "Go  on,  make  up 
some  words  for  the  verse,  let's  have  a  new  song  for 
the  boys,  to  match  the  one  from  London !" 

"Let  me  see,  how  does  it  go —  'I  come  from  Ala- 
bama with  my  banjo  on  my  knee' — I — I — why,  of 
course !  I  come  from  New  York  City  with  my  wash 
bowl  on  my  knee!" 

"Bully  boy " 

250 


A  SONG  IN  THE  MORNING 

"What's  the  next?" 

"I'm  going  to  Louisiana  my  true  love  for  to 
see " 

"Oh,  that's  easy — I'm  going  to  California,  my — 
my — oh,  the  gold  dust  for  to  see !" 

"Splendid — the  gold  dust  for  to  see !    Go  on !" 

"Well,  let  me  think —  It  rained  all  night  the  day 
I  left  the  weather  it  was  dry' — just  a  second,  the 
weather  it  was  dry — I'll — I'll  wash — drain  the 
rivers  dry !    How  is  that  ?" 

"First  rate !    Go  on — try  the  other  line " 

"Well,  they  say  they  get  it  out  of  the  rivers  and 
out  of  the  rocks,  don't  they?  I'll  dig  the  rocks 
bare — that  won't  do " 

"I'll  dig  the  mountains  bare " 

"Scrape  the  mountains  bare!" 

"I'll  scrape  the  mountains  bare — clean,  that's  it — 
I'll  scrape  the  mountains  clean,  turn  turn,  we  want 
two  words  there " 

"I'll  scrape  the  mountains  clean,  old  boy " 

"No,  no,  old  girl!    It's  all  about  Susanna!" 

"That's  the  first  verse — now  then,  Mat,  try 
another  one " 

Matthew  scribbled  and  hummed  for  a  while,  and 
then  he  looked  up  with  a  laugh. 

251 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"I  think  that's  it,"  he  said.    "Listen— I'll  sing  you 
the  whole  thing 

"I  come  from  New  York  City 
With  my  wash  bowl  on  my  knee, 
I'm  going  to  California 
The  gold  dust  for  to  see. 
I'll  scrape  the  mountains  clean,  old  girl, 
I'll  drain  the  rivers  dry, 
I'm  off  for  California, 
Susanna,  don't  you  cry! 

Oh,  Susanna, 

Don't  you  cry  for  me, 

I'm  off  for  California 

With  my  wash  bowl  on  my  knee !" 

"Hurrah !    Now  the  other  verse " 


"I  could  not  think  of  anything  else- 


"Oh,  when  I  get  to  Frisco, 
I'll  look  all  round  and  round, 
And  by  the  Sacramento, 
I'll  dig  right  in  the  ground — 
If  I  don't  find  that  gold  dust, 
This  darkie'll  surely  die, 
And  when  you  hear  that  I've  gone  bust, 
Susanna,  don't  you  cry !" 

"And  when  you  hear    ...    Ha!    Ha!    That's 
capital    .    .    ." 

252 


A  SONG  IN  THE  MORNING 

"Now  then,  all  together ■ 

"Oh,  Susanna, 
Don't  you  cry  for  me,  t 

I'm  off  for  California 
With  my  wash  bowl  on  my  knee!" 

Over  and  over  again  they  sang  it,  with  all  the 
fervor  of  novelty,  and  when  they  stopped  for  breath 
the  Song  that  was  to  go  around  the  world  was 
theirs.  The  Song  that  really  started  the  gold  rush, 
and  roared  its  way  from  the  Battery  to  Hong  Kong, 
via  the  two  Capes.  Through  England,  and  Spain, 
and  Holland,  and  Prussia,  and  France,  with  its 
endless  variations 

"Adieu,  Susanne, 
Ne  pleur'  pas  ma  mie! 
C'est  pour  voir  Calif  ornie 
Que  je  t'abandonnel" 

The  Song  which  Matthew  improvised,  and  which 
another  sang  that  same  evening    .    .    . 

3 

"Who  is  for  the  Pacific  Garden?"  someone  had 
suggested.     "There  is  a  new  entertainment  since 

253 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

yesterday.    I  am  told  the  place  repays  a  visit,  and 
is  fully  as  diverting  as  Niblo's  or  the  Castle." 

"Yes,  I  have  been  there  already.  It  is  to  be  a 
garden  in  summer  time,  with  boxes,  and  gravel 
walks,  and  arbors  with  statuary  all  set  out  under 
the  trees — and  in  the  winter  season  they  will  give 
plays  and  various  feats  of  skill  in  the  auditorium.' ' 

"The  fee  for  admission  is  fifty  cents,  fireworks 
ten  cents  extra " 

"I  have  heard  that  there  is  to  be  a  fountain  in 
front  of  the  stage,  which  will  play  between 
numbers !" 

"That  is  copied  from  the  Castle " 

"Yes,  and  they  are  to  have  over  a  hundred  white 
tables  in  the  pit  of  the  pavilion  where  one  may 
have  refreshments  served    .    .    ." 

"What  is  announced  for  tonight — I  can  not  bear 
to  see  The  French  Spy  or  The  Wild  Arab  of  the 
Desert  again,  nor  yet  that  California  farce,  A  Rub- 
ber  Boat  for  Two!" 

"Let  us  look  in  the  paper,"  said  Matthew.  "There 
will  be  a  notice  of  the  programme — where  is  it — 
amusements  .  .  .  Oh,  but  soak  me,  gentlemen, 
have  you  seen  this?" 

"What?" 

254 


A  SONG  IN  THE  MORNING 
"Mr.  Barnum's  latest  notice  ?    Listen  to  this- 

'The  Manager  has  just  purchased  at  a 
heavy  expense  an  enormous  BOA  CON- 
STRICTOR, the  largest  serpent  ever  cap- 
tured alive,  being  thirty  feet  long.'  " 

"Save  us,  what  a  monster  I" 
"That  is  nothing.    Here 


'Just  previous  to  its  arrival  it  deposited  sixty 
eggs  weighing  one  pound  each  during  one 
night,  one  of  which  on  being  broken  was 
found  to  contain  a 

JUVENILE  SARPINT 

about  three  feet  long,  which  ran  about  the 
cage  with  great  rapidity.  The  remainder  of 
the  eggs  were  saved  and  will  be  exhibited  with 
the  snake/ 

Would  you  not  admire  to  see  the  juvenile  sarpint? 
And  there  is  also  The  Belgian  Giant,  in  a  tableau 
entitled  Goliath  going  to  Battle,  and  Demo,  the 
Sagacious  Dog!" 

"No,"  they  laughed.  "We  will  save  them  for  the 
children.    What  is  at  the  Garden  tonight  ?" 

"Well/*  the  play  is  Destiny  or  the  Demon  of  Re- 
255 


-   OH,  SUSANNA! 

venge,  together  with  a  Serio  Comic  Ballet,  Diable 
Rouge  or  the  Fairy  of  the  Rhine,  including  gym- 
nastic flights  on  the  corde  volante." 

"Ah,  but  here  is  a  number  for  you,  Mat,"  some- 
one said,  looking  over  his  shoulder. 

"Senor  Miguel  Fea,  the  wonder  from  Mex- 
ico. Performs  unparallelled  feats  of  equili- 
brium, sustained  only  by  the  tight  wire,  in 
the  course  of  which  he  assumes  Classic  Pos- 
tures as  beautiful  as  they  are  surprising." 

"I  would  admire  to  have  him  up  aloft  taking  in 
sail  in  a  hurricane,"  smiled  Matthew. 
"Is  there  anything  else?" 
"Soak  me,  yes 

'Grand  Venetian  Carnival,  in  the  course  of 
which  will  be  shown  the  astonishing  Drunk 
Scene  on  Stilts.' 

That,  Sir,  decides  me,  I  would  not  miss  such  a 
comical  conceit." 

"And  fireworks  too,  at  the  close,  on  the  lawn,  as 
a  special  attraction,  see 

'Grand  Display  of  Purple  Lights,  Two 
Pound  Rockets  with  Saucissions  and  Stream- 
ers. 

256 


A  SONG  IN  THE  MORNING 

"Figure  Pieces  with  Gerbs  of  Chinese  Silver 
Fire,  Wheels  of  Palestine,  Mosaics  and  Ma- 
roon Batteries,  Maltese  Fires  with  Rayonant, 
Purple,  Crimson,  Jessamine,  Amethyst  Ser- 
pents, Aigrettes,  Torbillons,  and  Grass 
Hoppers !' 

The  management  is  reckless  of  expense  at  this  time 
of  year !    It  is  to  attract  custom  no  doubt." 

"Well/'  Matthew  laughed.  "Let  us  go  to  the 
Pacific  Garden!" 

It  was  all  one  to  him,  but  there  would  be  a  crowd 
there,  and  perhaps  among  the  tables  he  would  see 
her    .    .    . 


But  she  was  not  among  the  tables  at  the  Pacific 
Garden. 

Matthew  neglected  the  performance,  and  sat  with 
his  back  almost  turned  to  the  stage,  in  his  attempt  to 
look  into  every  corner  and  eddy  of  the  audience, 
and  so  missed  tne  greater  part  of  Senor  Miguel 
Fea's  unparalleled  feats  of  equilibrium,  and  all  of 
the  Serio  Comic  Ballet,  Diable  Rouge  or  the  Fairy 
of  the  Rhine. 

But  the  golden  haired  girl  was  not  there. 

Matthew  had  not  really  expected  that  she  would 
"  257 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

be,  but  he  had  never  ceased  his  restless  search  for 
her,  in  the  streets,  in  crowded  places,  out  under  the 
seclusion  of  elm  bordered  walks. 

".    .    .  and  when  I  find  Susanna 
I'll  fall  right  on  the  ground, 
But  if  I  do  not  find  her, 
This  darkie'll  surely  die    .    .    ." 

It  would  always  be  the  same,  he  thought  bitterly 
to  himself.  She  had  probably  returned  to  New 
England,  where  her  telltale  accent  would  be  more 
at  home,  and  he  would  never  see  her  again    .    .    . 

And  then  after  the  intermission,  during  which 
the  fountain  played  as  advertised  while  they  par- 
took of  refreshments,  the  ballad  singer  came  out  on 
the  stage. 

She  sang  Come  Rest  in  this  Bosom,  my  own 
Stricken  Deer,  in  a  pathetically  sweet  voice  which 
seemed  to  match  her  own  frailty,  and  then  as  an 
encore,  /  have  found  thee 

".    .    .  For  to  one  my  vows  were  plighted 
With  a  faltering  lip  and  pale, 
Hands  our  cruel  sires  united, 
Hearts  were  deemed  of  slight  avail. 
Thus  my  youth's  bright  morn  o'erclouded, 
258 


A  SONG  IN  THE  MORNING 

Thus  betrothed  to  wealth  and  state. 
All  love's  own  sweet  prospect  shrouded, 
I  have  met  thee,  but  too  late !" 

She  bowed  and  smiled  at  their  applause,  but  they 
would  not  let  her  go. 

"Bravo,  bravo!     She  must  sing  again " 

"Her  voice  is  amazingly  true  and  sweet — such 
timbre,  I  declare    .    .    ." 

So  to  please  them  she  came  forward  again,  and 
sang  /  was  not  to  blame 

"Oft  hast  thou  told  me,  Mother  dear, 

Subtle  man  I'd  cause  to  fear — 

Thou  a  saint  in  yonder  skies, 

Still  thy  warning  voice  I  prize. 

But  if  he  would  still  pursue, 

Mother  dear,  what  could  I  do? 

Let  this  little  tear  proclaim, 

Mother,  I  was  not  to  blame! 

Let  this  little  tear  proclaim, 

Mother,  dear  Mother — 

I  was  not  to  blame    .    .    . !" 

The  audience  went  into  raptures  over  her  rendi- 
tion of  it  but  Matthew  had  not  listened  to  a  word 
of  the  songs,  nor  heard  any  of  the  delighted  ap- 
plause which  had  greeted  each  number. 

From  the  moment  when  she  had  first  stepped  out 
259 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

onto  the  stage  in  her  white  dress,  followed  by  a  pale, 
sickly  youth  who  was  to  play  the  accompaniments 
and  who  might  have  been  her  brother,  Matthew 
had  sat  staring  at  her,  his  mind  full  of  the  golden 
haired  girl  who  had  laughed  and  stammered  with 
him  on  the  deck  of  the  Cygnet,  so  slender  and  frail, 
and  so  beautiful. 

For  a  while  it  seemed  as  though  he  could  not 
realize  that  she  was  standing  there  on  the  stage  be- 
fore him  now    .    .    . 


It  was  only  when  she  began  Oh,  Susanna  that  he 
roused  himself. 

"It  is  the  golden  haired  girl,"  someone  in  the 
party  was  volunteering.  "That  is  what  they  call 
her.    Her  voice  is  like  her  hair !" 

"Why  not  get  her  to  sing  the  new  song?  It  will 
be  a  great  success !" 

"Why,  of  course,  the  very  thing — golden  hair, 
and  a  golden  voice,  and  California!" 

".  .  .  here,  boy — present  Captain  Parsons'  com- 
pliments to  the  lady  who  is  singing — Miss  Crane? 
To  Miss  Crane,  then — and  tell  her  that  he  has  some- 
thing very  important  to  impart  to  her!" 

260 


A  SONG  IN  THE  MORNING 

"Belay  there!"  Matthew  exclaimed.  "You  don't 
know  what  you're  doing " 

But  the  boy  had  gone  already  with  the  message, 
and  Matthew  watched  his  progress  across  the  audi- 
torium, saw  him  disappear  at  the  close  of  the  song, 
and  waited  breathlessly  for  him  to  return,  oblivious 
to  the  banter  with  which  his  friends  assailed  him. 

".     .    .  and  when  I  find  Susanna 
I'll  fall  right  on  the  ground    .    .    ." 

"Miss  Crane  will  be  glad  to  hear  whatever  Cap- 
tain Parsons  wishes  to  say,"  the  boy  announced. 
"She  has  to  sing  again  in  a  few  moments,  if  the 
Captain  can  spare  the  time  now." 

"Heave  away,  Mat !"  they  laughed  at  him.  "Do 
not  keep  the  lady  waiting!" 

"I'll  wager  he  runs  foul  of  her  beautiful  eyes,  and 
casts  himself  ashore  gazing  at  her  dazzling  hair  .  .  ." 

And  so  Matthew  found  himself  face  to  face  once 
more  with  the  golden  haired  girl,  in  the  wings  of 
the  little  theatre. 


"How  do  you  do,  Miss?"  he  said  awkwardly. 
She  was  even  more  beautiful  than  he  had  re- 
261 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

membered,  in  her  satin  gown,  with  the  golden 
curls  tumbling  about  from  under  her  circlet  of 
flowers. 

"Good  evening,  Sir,"  she  replied,  and  her  eyes 
avoided  his.    "So  you  are  a  Captain  now." 

"Yes,  Miss     .    .    ." 

It  was  a  very  chilly  beginning,  and  formal,  after 
their  outspoken  friendliness  on  that  night  when 
she  had  held  the  pistol. 

"Soak  me,  Miss!"  Matthew  exclaimed.  "Where 
have  you  been  all  this  long  time  ?" 

"Had  you  been  at  pains  to  seek  me,  Sir,  you  would 
have  found  out,"  she  told  him. 

"Oh,  but  I  did!"  Matthew  cried.  "I  have  looked 
for  you  everywhere,  Miss,  every  time  I  have  been 
ashore." 

"Perhaps  you  were  not  ashore  enough  then,  Sir." 

"Soak  me,  I  could  not  give  up  my  duties,  Miss, 
I  am  a  sailor,  and  must  sail  with  the  tides." 

"Oh,  Sir,  I  do  not  deny  it.  I  had  not  expected 
you  to  look  for  me." 

"I  did  though.  Not  a  day  has  gone  by  but  what 
I  have  hoped  to  find  you  in  it,  but  it  was  worse  than 
the  needle  in  the  haystack  with  no  name  to  guide 
me.    It  has  been  a  dreary  long  time  1" 

262 


A  SONG  IN  THE  MORNING 

"I  would  admire  to  believe  it,"  she  remarked. 
"On  that  day  when  we  landed,  you  were  not  so 
anxious,  Sir!" 

"I  was  terribly  grieved  over  that,  Miss.  I  had 
counted  on  seeing  you  before  you  went  ashore,  and 
then  my  duties  interfered  at  every  turn." 

"Yes,  your  duties,  of  course,  I  understand,  Sir. 
I  reckon  it  is  because  you  performed  your  duties 
so  closely  that  you  are  now  a  Captain." 

"I  would  rather  be  a  Johnnie  before  the  mast 
today,  Miss,  than  to  have  lost  you  on  that  morn- 
ing r 

"Indeed,  Sir." 

"Yes,  Mks.  I  was  like  a  cat  after  her  kittens 
when  I  found  that  you  had  gone  in  the  tender, 
without  a  word." 

"I  could  not  have  presumed  to  jeopardize  your 
promotion,  Sir,  with  messages  at  such  a  time !" 

"Better  my  promotion  than  my  life's  happiness 

There  was  the  faintest  suspicion  of  a  smile  in 
her  eyes,  but  it  was  absent  from  her  voice  when  she 
spoke  again. 

"In  the  midst  of  your  duties,  Sir,  you  had  no 
time  for  a  girl  in  the  steerage,  of  course.    And  the 

263 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

great  ladies  of  the  cabin  to  escort  to  the  gang- 
plank  " 

"You  are  forgetting,  Miss — I  was  a  dandy,  not 
a  purser !" 

" — and  now  that  I  am  a  public  singer,  little  better 
than  an  actress,  Sir,  I  fear  me  time  will  not  hang 
heavy  upon  your  hands." 

"How  do  you  mean,  Miss?" 

"Why,  Sir,  where  the  dandy  could  not  turn  aside, 
surely  the  Captain  will  not  condescend !" 

It  was  very  cruelly  said,  it  seemed  to  Matthew, 
and  terribly  unjust,  but  he  only  smiled.  Of  course, 
if  he  had  done  anything  else  he  would  have  lost  her 
forever.  She  was  not  offering  him  silver  speaking 
trumpets  now,  but  only  bitter  words  hastily  sum- 
moned up  to  guard  the  secret  of  her  own  great  joy 
at  his  coming,  and  if  he  had  done  anything  but 
swallow  them — but  by  great  good  fortune  for  them 
both  he  only  smiled. 

"Soak  me,  Miss!"  he  exclaimed.  "You — you  do 
not  stammer  at  all !" 

They  looked  at  each  other  for  a  while  in  silence 
then,  and  the  suspicion  of  an  answering  smile  in 
her  eyes  was  confirmed  little  by  little,  for  all  her 
unstammering  coldness. 

264 


A  SONG  IN  THE  MORNING 

"I  beg  you,  forgive  me,  Sir,"  she  said  at  last. 
"What  I  said  just  now  was  very  unkind  and  un- 
worthy." 

"I  calculate  I  deserve  it  all,  Miss,  for  having  been 
such  a  loony!  Will  you  forgive  me  .  .  ."  but  she 
seemed  unready  to  commit  herself  on  that  point,  and 
Matthew  laughed. 

"What  have  you  done  all  this  time,  Miss?"  he 
asked  her. 

"We  gave  lessons,"  she  replied.  "My  father  and 
I,  while  I  studied  to  train  my  voice." 

"It  is  a  beautiful  voice,  Miss — but  not  as  beauti- 
ful as  your  hair !" 

"You  have  lost  the  trick  of  stammering,  Sir, 
also !"  she  laughed  at  him  suddenly,  but  she  went  on 
again  soberly  at  once.  "My  father  died  a  year  ago, 
and  since  then  I  have  been  singing  in  the  Gardens 
with  my  brother." 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  of  your  father,  Miss    .    .    " 

"And  you,  Sir,  what  has  befallen  you  ?"  she  asked. 

"I  have  spent  my  days  looking  for  you,"  Matthew 
assured  her. 

"Is  it  for  that  they  made  you  a  Captain,  Sir?" 

"Soak  me,  but  I  calculate  that  had  something  to 

do  with  it,  yes,  Miss " 

265 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"How,  Sir?" 

"Captain  Logan  saw  that  I  was  spoiled  for  a  mate, 
dreaming  of  you,  Miss,  and  persuaded  my  father 
to  make  me  a  Captain  with  Parsons  and  Moore! 
It  is  true,  Miss " 

"And  did  you  expect  to  find  me  in  China  then, 
Sir?"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  frank  twinkle  in  her 
eyes. 

"It  was  my  father  sent  me  to  China,"  Matthew 
explained.  "I  reckon  it  was  in  his  mind  that  I 
should  forget  you " 

"Indeed,  Sir." 

"But  that  is  only  because  he  has  never  seen  you, 
Miss — but,  soak  me,  how  did  you  know  that  I  had 
been  to  China?" 

"Oh,  Sir,  a  ship  such  as  the  Mandarin  is  not  in- 
conspicuous, and  the  Battery  affords  an  excellent 
view  of  the  Bay!" 

"Yes,  I  know,  but " 

"I — I  chanced  to  overhear  them  speaking,  Sir — 
that  you — that  you  were  in  command  of  her,  and — 
and  China  bound " 

"Indeed,  Miss— did  the  Battery  so  reecho  with 
my  affairs !" 

"Yes,  Sir,  they — I — I  overheard  them  speaking — 
266 


A  SONG  IN  THE  MORNING 

they  said  that  you — that  you  carried  a  blue  china 
elephant  for  luck  a-b-board    .    .    ." 

Matthew  suddenly  found  himself  standing  very 
much  closer  to  her,  laughing  into  her  eyes. 

"We  are  back  where  we  left  off  before — you  are 
stammering  again,  Miss !"  he  warned  her. 

"You  are  too  critical  of  unimportant  matters, 
Sir,"  she  parried,  but  she  did  not  move  away. 

"No,  Miss,  it  is  not  that — it  is  just  that  every 
glance  from  your  eyes,  every  sound  in  your 
voice,  every  last  finger  tip  of  you  is  important  to 
me!" 

"Oh— oh,  indeed,  Sir— why    .    .    ." 

"Why?  Because  I  love  you,  Miss.  It  has  taken 
me  a  smart  of  time  to  tell  you!" 

"Oh,  Sir,  I  do  not  think  so  at  all!  I  think  you 
have  told  me  very  quickly,"  she  exclaimed  rather 
breathlessly. 

"I  am  a  sailor,  Miss,  and " 

" — and  must  sail  with  the  tides,  yes,  Sir,  I  re- 
member!" she  tittered  right  under  his  nose,  and  this 
time,  had  there  been  a  rail  handy,  Matthew  would 
not  have  used  it  because  her  hands  were  imprisoned 
in  both  of  his. 

"This  time,  Miss,  I  am  away  on  a  tide  that  has 
267 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

no  turning  .  .  ."he  began,  but  she  held  him  off 
gently. 

"Oh,  Sir,  I  beg  you — the  call  boy  is  watch- 
ing " 

"Varnish  the  call  boy!" 

"Please,  Sir — I — I — the  boy  said  there  was  a  mes- 
sage— did  you  wish  to  speak  with  me?" 

"Soak  me,  Miss,  it  would  appear  so !"  Matthew 
laughed. 

"I  meant,  did  you  wish  to  speak  of — of  anything 
important  \" 

"It  seems  no  light  matter,  Miss,  at  least  to  me," 
he  tried  to  insist,  but  she  had  regained  all  her  self 
possession. 

"Sir,  I  beg  you,  be  serious — I  have  but  a  few 
moments  left — if  there  was  a  message  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  there  was  a  message,"  he  admitted.  "It 
was  my  friends  who  hoped  to  do  you  a  slight  service 
perhaps,  Miss.  You  were  singing  Oh,  Susanna  a 
moment  ago,  and  we  have  some  new  words,  about 
California.  It  is  getting  to  be  all  the  rage  you 
know." 

"Yes?" 

"We  thought  you  might  admire  to  sing  them 
as   an  encore.     Here  they   are,"   and  he  handed 

268 


A  SONG  IN  THE  MORNING 

her  the  scrap  of  paper  on  which  he  had  scribbled 
them. 

"Oh,  how  splendid !"  she  laughed  as  she  read 
them.  "The  audience  will  be  very  much  taken  by 
them  I  am  sure.  I  will  sing  them  with  pleasure, 
thank  you.  And  now,  Sir,  I  must  prepare  to  return 
to  the  stage " 

"I  will  take  my  leave  then,  but  this  time  I  shall 
not  lose  you  again,  Miss !" 

".    .    .  but  if  he  would  still  pursue, 
Mother  dear,  what  could  I  do    .    .    ." 

she  hummed  mischievously. 

"Now  that  I  know  your  name,  Miss,  and  that 
you  are  singing — do  you  sing  here  every  evening  ?" 

"Yes,  every  evening,  at  present,"  she  replied. 
"Do  you  come  here  often,  Sir?" 

"I  have  never  been  here  before — but  I  shall  re- 
turn every  evening  now  while  I  am  ashore.  If  I 
may  not  see  you  elsewhere,  Miss  ?" 

"Why  would  you  wish  to  see  me  more  often, 
Sir?"  she  teased  him. 

"I  do  not  know,  Miss,"  Matthew  flashed  at  her 
with  sudden  impudence.  "Unless  it  is  the  mid- 
269 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

9 

winter  madness  for  gold  which  has  seized  the  town 
that  is  come  upon  me  I" 

"Indeed,  Sir." 

"Yes,  Miss — and  then  I  would  admire  to  hear 
your  answer." 

"My  answer?"  she  appeared  to  frown.  "But  you 
have  not  asked  me  anything,  Sir " 

"Soak  me  in  brine!"  Matthew  exclaimed,  but 
the  slender  little  hands  were  not  to  be  captured 
again. 

"Think  of  the  call  boy/'  she  reminded  him,  and 
laughed  very  merrily.  "I  shall  admire  to  look  for 
you  in  the  audience,  Sir.  To  see  you  elsewhere 
would  perhaps  involve  more  seeking  on  your  part 
than  you  have  time  for!"  And  before  Matthew 
could  say  a  word  she  was  gone. 

"Blood  and  nouns !"  he  thought  to  himself.  "She 
has  left  me  in  shoal  water  again !  But  no  matter — 
I  have  told  her  and  she  was  not  displeased — and  now 
that  I  have  found  her  I  can  not  lose  her  surely 


7 

She  sang  the  new  words  as  an  encore  to  her  last 
song,  and  even  Matthew's  explosive  hand  clapping 

270 


A  SONG  IN  THE  MORNING 

was  lost  in  the  tumult  of  applause  and  laughter 
which  followed.  Four,  five  and  six  times  they 
made  her  sing  it,  and  at  the  seventh  time  most  of 
the  audience  joined  in. 

"It  has  taken  like  wild  fire  I"  Matthew's  friends 
complimented  him,  but  he  was  thinking  only  of  the 
singer  of  the  song,  and  not  at  all  of  the  song  itself. 

".    .    .  oh,  Susanna, 
Don't  you  cry  for  me, 
I'm  off  for  California 
With  my  wash  bowl  on  my  knee    .    .    ." 

They  were  singing  it  in  the  streets  late  that  night, 
and  in  the  morning  the  chorus  was  floating  across 
the  wharves  on  South  Street. 

The  Song  that  went  around  the  world  was  on  its 
way,  from  the  Battery  to  Hong  Kong,  via  the  two 
Capes,  wherever  Yankee  ships  sailed  blue  water, 
while  men  in  their  hundreds  rolled  out  the  refrain 
as  they  rushed  the  Isthmus  shipping  offices  in  New 
York. 

All  over  the  city,  from  Castle  Garden  to  Mc- 
Comb's  Dam,  there  was  a  song  in  the  morning  of 
that  January  day. 


271 


CHAPTER  VII 

HANDSPIKE  HASH 

1 

"'T'HE   elephant,   Sir,  has  already  brought  me 

*     luck!"     Matthew  told  his  father  jubilantly. 

"Split  me!"  Gamaliel  exclaimed.  "Is  it  be- 
cause we  have  made  you  a  Captain  that  you  are  so 
overjoyed?" 

"It  is  because  of  something  much  better  than  that 
even." 

"Indeed!" 

"Yes,  Sir — I  have  found  something  which  I  had 
thought  lost  forever!    At  the  Pacific  Garden,  Sir." 

"I  do  not  doubt  I  can  guess  what  you  have  found 
there,"  growled  Gamaliel.  "In  my  day  it  was  at 
Vauxhall  that  we  made  such  discoveries.  I'll  wager 
there  were  fireworks !" 

"Yes,  Sir,  there  were  fireworks,  but  I — I  did  not 
need  their  assistance — we  make  as  good  time  ashore 
as  in  your  day,  Sir,  when  we  turn  our  minds  to  it !" 

272 


HANDSPIKE  HASH 

"Oh,  you  young  dandies  are  the  prancing  buckos, 
I  am  convinced  of  it    .    .    ." 

And  having  found  her,  for  four  days  Matthew 
was  content  to  go  to  the  Pacific  Garden  every  even- 
ing, and  sit  near  the  stage  where  she  could  see  him, 
and  hear  her  sing.  Four  evenings  of  Diable  Rouge 
or  the  Fairy  of  the  Rhine,  and  then  after  the  inter- 
vening Sunday,  three  more  evenings  of  Marooned 
or  the  Pirate  King's  Remorse,  while  Matthew  re- 
flected on  the  suitable  steps  to  be  taken  in  order  to 
further  his  somewhat  erratic  courtship. 

"Time  passes  and  I  am  only  gathering  barnacles !" 
he  realized. 

On  the  fourth  evening  of  that  second  week  he 
sent  her  a  message. 

"I  admire  very  much  to  hear  you  sing,  Miss,"  he  told 
her.  "But  I  would  more  admire  to  hear  you  stammer 
again!  Will  you  not  permit  me  to  bring  you  to  my 
mother?" 

She  smiled  at  him  when  she  came  out  for  her 
next  song,  but  her  reply  was  not  encouraging. 

"Finding  is  not  always  keeping,  Sir,"  she  informed 
him.    "If  you  are  in  earnest  you  will  need  no  help  of 
mine  to  bring  me  to  your  mother !" 
18  273 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Soak  me  I"  Matthew  exclaimed.  "It  must  be  to 
test  me  that  she  remains  so  reticent.  It's  all  my  fault 
for  having  let  her  go  that  morning  on  the  Cygnet. 
She  has  not  yet  forgiven  me  that — and  she  is  confi- 
dent that  I  will  not  pester  her  at  the  stage  exit  like 
some  young  loony.    .    .    ." 

And  then  on  the  fifth  day  Matthew  was  suddenly 
obliged  to  travel  out  to  Long  Island  to  inspect  some 
of  the  locust  to  be  used  in  the  new  ship.  He  would 
be  gone  until  Sunday.  He  wrote  the  golden  haired 
girl  a  message  to  explain  his  absence — which  he 
found  perversely  hidden  away  in  his  pocket  on  the 
Saturday. 

"Blood  and  nouns I"  he  said  to  himself.  "What  a 
fool  I  am !  I  will  try  and  see  her  in  person  during 
the  intermission  on  Monday  and  explain  matters — 
or  else  she  will  think  that  I  stayed  away  because  of 
her  answer !" 

So  on  the  Monday  of  the  third  week  Matthew 
went  again  to  the  Pacific  Garden,  and  sat  through  a 
performance  of  The  Mountaineer  or  the  Spirit  of 
the  Snow — in  which  a  very  great  many  small  bits 
of  white  paper  dropped  from  the  flies  contrived  to 
give  the  appearances  of  a  very  little  snow — followed 
by  the  seven  Ching  Chung  Chows  in  their  Oriental 

274 


HANDSPIKE  HASH 

Ballet — during  which  the  snbw  from  the  previous 
scene  continued  to  drop  with  great  rapidity — inter- 
spersed with  hairbreadth  feats  of  balance  by  Mon- 
sieur Blondel  on  the  slack  rope — at  the  end  of  which 
the  snowfall  had  to  all  intents  and  purposes  ceased. 

But  the  golden  haired  girl  did  not  appear. 

Matthew  looked  at  his  programme,  and  saw  that 
she  was  not  even  advertised.  Another  singer,  how- 
ever, had  appropriated  the  Oh  Susanna  encore 
which  seemed  to  have  become  a  fixture. 

In  a  panic  of  anxiety  Matthew  sought  out  the 
manager. 

"Miss  Crane  ?"  he  begged  him.  "The  lady  who 
was  singing  last  week — what  has  become  of  her?" 

"Miss  Crane  ?  I  don't  recall — we  have  so  many 
artists — oh  yes,  Miss  Crane — she  has  gone." 

"She  has  gone!  Do  you  know  where — can  you 
tell  me    .    .    ." 

"No,  she  left  no  word  at  all — she  went  very 
suddenly." 

Matthew  stumbled  out  of  the  Garden  in  a  perfect 
trance  of  despair. 

"I  have  lost  her  again !"  he  kept  saying  to  himself 
as  he  walked  blindly  along  the  pathways  of  the 
Battery  Park  until  a  late  hour  that  night.     "I  have 

275 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

lost  her  again!     Perhaps  after  all  it  is  the  cursed 
elephant  that  brings  bad  luck    .    .    ." 

Of  course  she  had  left  a  message  for  him  this 
time  at  the  Garden,  a  message  which  stayed  neglected 
for  many  days  in  the  corner  of  a  mirror,  until  it 
fluttered  to  the  floor  and  was  swept  away  with  a  lot 
of  other  worthless  rubbish. 


Matthew  turned  to  his  ship  for  consolation,  and 
buried  himself  in  the  details  of  her  construction  and 
furnishing. 

The  news  from  the  gold  region  had  of  course 
given  a  tremendous  impetus  to  ship  building,  as 
Matthew  had  predicted,  and  with  the  California 
trade  booming,  fifty  and  sixty  dollars  freight  money 
per  forty  cubic  feet,  the  new  clipper  built  ships  were 
going  up  on  the  ways  as  fast  as  the  lumber  for  them 
could  be  gathered  together. 

Descendants  of  the  old  Ann  McKim  and  of  the 
ill  fated  experimental  Rainboiv  that  had  aroused 
so  much  comment,  the  Ariel,  the  Houqua,  the 
Sea  Witch,  the  Samuel  Russell  were  pressed  into 
service  from  the  China  run,  soon  to  be  followed 

276 


HANDSPIKE  HASH 

by  the  great  record  breaking  clippers  of  the 
Fifties. 

The  Andrew  Jackson,  McKay's  Romance  of  the 
Seas,  Captain  Very's  Hurricane — each  with  a  ninety 
odd  day  San  Francisco  trip  to  her  credit.  The  Gris- 
wolds'  beautiful  Challenge,  commanded  by  Captain 
Bob  Waterman,  the  Sovereign  of  the  Seas,  the  N. 
B.  Palmer  of  Low  Brothers,  with  her  brass  guns, 
and  her  nettings,  and  her  oceanwide  famed  hospi- 
tality under  Captain  Porter  Low  .  .  . 

Two  other  great  record  holders  also,  Captain 
Josiah  Richardson's  Staghound,  thirteen  days  from 
Boston  Light  to  the  Equator,  and  Captain  David 
Babcock's  Young  America,  from  50°  S.  Atlantic  to 
50°  S.  Pacific  in  six  days    .    .    . 

Vessels  that  were  to  fulfill  all  of  Matthew's 
dreams,  and  place  the  American  flag  at  the  skysail 
pole  of  mercantile  shipping. 

And  the  greatest  flier  of  them  all,  with  her  four- 
fold record — Captain  Josiah  Creesy's  McKay  built, 
Grinnel  and  Minturn,  Flying  Cloud.  The  ship  that 
was  to  sail  three  hundred  and  seventy- four  miles 
under  topgallantsails,  thereby  hanging  up  the  record 
for  the  fastest  day's  run  under  steam  or  sail  ever 
made  up  to  that  time,  on  a  voyage  during  which  she 

277 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

lost  her  fore,  main  and  mizzen  topgallant  masts,  her 
maintopsail  yard,  and  sprung  her  mainmast,  to  say 
nothing  of  a  first  mate  in  irons! 

"All  same  flying  dlagons!"  as  Ah  Fung  would 
have  said. 

".    .    .  they  say  she's  bound  to  sail  so  fast, 
That  a  man  on  deck  can't  catch  the  mast, 
And  a  porpoise  trying  to  keep  ahead, 
Will  get  run  over  and  killed  stone  dead    .    .    ." 

Sturdy,  long  limbed  vessels  from  the  yards  of 
Donald  McKay,  William  H.  Webb,  Jacob  A. 
Westervelt,  Fernald  and  Pettigrew,  Samuel  Hall, 
Jacob  Bell,  Trufant  and  Drummond,  George 
Raynes,  Per r in,  Patterson  and  Stack — marvels  of 
beauty  and  speed,  the  joy  of  their  builders,  the 
glory  of  a  ship  loving  nation,  and  the  pride  of  the 
Yankee  merchant  fleets  whose  ornament  they 
became. 


"We  are  building  a  new  ship  for  you,"  they  had 
told  Matthew  one  day  in  the  Parsons  and  Moore 
counting  room.     "Up  at  McKay's." 

"Indeed!    For  what  trade  do  you  propose  her?" 

27S 


HANDSPIKE  HASH 

"Oh,  for  California  of  course !  Those  people  out 
there  are  plumb  crazy.  Would  you  believe  it,  beef 
and  flour  are  selling  for  around  forty  dollars  a 
barrel." 

"Soak  me !" 

"Yes,  and  they  pay  four  dollars  a  pound  for 
coffee  and  tea — a  pair  of  boots  brings  fifty  dollars 
— fifteen  dollars  a  piece  for  shovels  and  picks — 
sugar  four  dollars  a  pound — ordinary  tin  dishes  go 
for  anywhere  from  around  three  to  eight  dollars. 
Drugs  are  out  of  sight,  a  dollar  a  drop,  two  dollars 
a  pill !" 

"Well,  I  reckon  they  can  afford  it,"  Matthew 
said. 

"A  ship's  freight  at  that  rate  will  amount  to  about 
sixty  thousand  dollars,"  they  went  on.  "Which  is 
very  nearly  what  she  will  cost  ready  for  sea  with  all 
her  top  bills  paid.  She  will  almost  pay  for  herself 
in  one  trip.  It  can't  last,  but  while  it  does  it's  too 
good  an  adventure  to  miss." 

And  then  of  course  a  great  talking  set  in — of 
concave  water  lines,  and  half  floor  dead  rise,  copper 
sheathing,  hanging  knees  of  hackmattack,  carlines, 
waterways,  plankshears  and  ledges. 

".  .  .  she  will  measure  two  hundred  and  thirty- 
279 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

five  feet  overall,  that  will  be  two  hundred  and  eight 
feet  for  the  keel,  and  two  hundred  and  twenty-five 
of  deck." 

"What  does  she  register?" 

"Seventeen  hundred  and  eighty-three  tons — 
forty-one  feet  wide,  and  depth  of  hold  of  twenty- 
one  and  a  half." 

".  .  .  Virginia  or  Maryland  white  oak  for  her 
stem  and  stern  posts — Long  Island  locust  trenails 
down  to  deep  load  line    .    .    ." 

That  Long  Island  locust  which  had  been  the 
undoing  of  Matthew 

"Oak  frames?" 

"Yes,  and  Louisiana  and  Florida  live  oak  through- 
out for  her  aprons,  dead  woods,  cants,  and  top 
timbers " 

"You're  making  the  decks  of  pine  ?" 

"Yes,  decks  and  masts.  We'll  paint  the  lower 
masts  white  to  the  tops,  with  scraped  and  varnished 
tops  and  doublings,  and  black  yards.  We  calculate 
on  a  rake  of  one  and  a  quarter  inches  per  foot  to 
the  masts." 

"Black  hull?" 

"Yes,  from  the  metal  up,  with  a  gold  stripe " 

"She  is  being  furnished  with  reef  tackle  and 
280 


HANDSPIKE  HASH 

halliard  blocks,  and  brace  sheaves  with  gun  metal 
roller  bushes     .     .     ." 

"Where  are  you  placing  the  forecastle?" 

"Ah,  I  am  glad  you  mentioned  it — we  are  think- 
ing of  placing  it  in  a  deck  house  between  the  fore 
and  main.  We  plan  to  divide  it  amidships  fore  and 
aft  with  a  bulkhead,  so  as  to  give  a  compartment 
for  each  watch.    What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"It  will  be  an  improvement,  with  plenty  of  air 
and  light,  which  forecastles  have  lacked.  How  will 
you  finish  her?" 

"In  Spanish  mahogany,  rails,  deck  houses, 
hatches,  companions — bronze  and  copper  bolts — 
stanchions  of  turned  oak — and  of  course  none  but 
the  finest  brass  work  for  capstan  heads,  bells,  sky- 
lights, binnacle,  and  such  gear." 

"The  wheel  is  ordered,  a  rosewood  rim  with 
ebony  spokes,  tipped  with  brass    .    .    ." 

"A  very  sweet  ship,"  Matthew  remarked,  after 
passing  on  all  these  matters — "Mahogany  and  brass, 
and  rosewood  wheels,  look  very  well  on  deck.  How 
is  she  rigged?" 

"Well,  her  mainmast  will  measure  eighty-eight 
feet,  exclusive  of  topmast  and  skysail  pole,  her 
mainyard,  eight-two.     Her  bowsprit  and  jibboom 

281 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

will  project  fifty-eight  feet  in  all.  She  will  carry- 
three  standing  skysail  yards,  and  royal,  topgallant 
and  topmast  studdingsails  at  the  fore  and 
main " 

"Water  sails  and  ring  tails  ?" 

"Yes — Square  lower  studdingsails  with  swing- 
ing booms  at  the  fore,  and  single  topsail  yards " 

"What  about  reefs?" 

"She  will  have  single  reefs  in  the  topgallantsails, 
and  four  reef  bands  in  the  topsails — topsail  and  top- 
gallant bowlines." 

"What  spread  are  you  figuring  on?" 

"We  calculate  about  ten  thousand  yards  of  run- 
ning canvas — Colt's  white  cotton,  and  Russian  hemp 
rigging.  Her  mainsail  will  be  seventy-two  feet  on 
the  head,  and  ninety-two  on  the  foot,  with  forty- 
two  on  the  leach  and  a  drop  of  forty  and  a  half." 

"A  very  sweet  ship,"  Matthew  repeated.  "What 
are  you  calling  her?" 

"We  are  leaving  that  to  you,"  they  told  him. 
"She  is  to  be  yours,  and  you  shall  name  her.  We 
are  giving  you  Mr.  Stimson  from  the  Mandarin  as 
first  officer,  by  the  way." 

"That's  good.  I'd  admire  to  have  him  with  me. 
We  see  eye  to  eye  in  the  matter  of  carrying  sail, 

282 


HANDSPIKE  HASH 

Mr.  Stimson  and  I.  In  fact  when  other  ships  are 
lying  hove  to  Mr.  Stimson  is  out  pacing  the  deck 
whistling  for  more  wind !  He  has  never  lost  a  spar 
with  me  though — "  Matthew  added  quickly. 

"Well,  you  shall  have  him.  And  now  what  will 
you  name  her?" 

"She  shall  be  named  the  Golden  Fleece!"  Matthew 
finally  decided. 

"The  Golden  Fleecer 

"Yes,  she  is  to  sail  in  search  of  gold,  like  that 
ship  of  the  Argonauts!"  Only  Matthew  was  not 
thinking  of  the  sort  of  gold  which  came  at  once 
into  their  minds. 

"Perhaps  you'll  find  gold  also,  while  you're  out 
there,"  they  laughed  at  him. 

"I  would  greatly  admire  to !"  he  smiled  back,  and 
once  again  he  was  thinking  of  another  kind  of  gold 
entirely.  "From  all  accounts  I'll  be  lucky  to  get 
out  with  the  ship.  There  are  more  than  a  hundred 
vessels  abandoned  in  San  Francisco  harbor  at  the 
present  time!" 

"Abandoned?     Why  so " 

"They  tell  me  the  crews  swim  ashore  when  they 
get  within  smelling  distance  of  the  beach,  and  you 
have  to  empty  the  jail  to  get  a  gang  for  the  return 

283 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

voyage!  In  cases  where  the  officers  have  deserted 
as  well,  the  ships  are  simply  floating  cockroach 
palaces    .    .    ." 


Along  with  the  naming  of  her,  they  left  the 
designing  of  the  figurehead  and  stern  ornamenta- 
tion to  Matthew,  and  the  choice  of  cabin  furnish- 
ings. 

"We'll  have  a  gilt  carved  figurehead  representing 
Jason,"  Matthew  announced.  "Standing  in  the  bow 
of  his  boat  looking  out  to  sea  with  his  hand  shading 
his  eyes,  searching  for  the  fleece !" 

"How  do  you  represent  Jason?"  they  asked  him 
dubiously. 

"That  is  for  the  wood  carver  to  fix,"  Matthew 
laughed.  "Tell  him  to  make  a  Greek  sailor  of  clas- 
sical times    .    .    ." 

Which  is  probably  the  reason  why  the  Golden 
Fleece  bore  a  sailor  on  her  figurehead,  classical 
enough  as  to  his  draperies,  but  somewhat  incon- 
gruously attired  in  a  flat  brimmed  stiff  hat !  On  no 
account  would  Matthew  have  it  changed. 

For  the  stern  they  hit  upon  an  elaborate  design 
in  gold,  showing  Neptune  driving  his  sea  horses  in 

284 


HANDSPIKE  HASH 

the  midst  of  a  school  of  ornamental  dolphins, 
framed  in  a  rope  moulding  with  the  words 
GOLDEN  FLEECE  NEW  YORK  in  plain  block 
letters. 

When  it  came  to  the  main  cabin  Matthew  took 
his  plans  to  Felicity. 

"Spare  no  expense,"  they  had  told  him.  "We 
want  her  to  be  the  most  beautiful  vessel  afloat. 
She  will  pay  for  herself  fast  enough !" 

And  between  them  Matthew  and  his  mother 
turned  out  a  marvel  of  woodwork  and  gilding! 

From  cornices  and  dentals  finished  in  gold,  a 
frieze  bearing  a  gilt  wave  ornament,  architraves, 
narrow  panels  of  jigsaw  work  between  the  tops  of 
the  pilasters  representing  alternating  dolphins  and 
sea  horses  also  picked  out  in  gold,  down  to  the 
baseboards — everything  in  polished  walnut. 

All  of  it  as  a  background  for  the  four  main  panels 
of  ebony  inlaid  with  holly,  rose  and  zebra  wood,  in 
a  design  of  flowers  and  plants  growing  out  of  clas- 
sical urns,  separated  by  rails  and  stiles  of  smooth 
ebony  bordered  with  a  minute  rope  moulding  in  gold. 

"Soak  me !"  Matthew  exclaimed.  "It  will  knock 
your  eye  out!  What  will  you  do  with  the 
pilasters  ?" 

285 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Felicity  decided  on  plain  walnut,  repeating  the 
thin  rope  moulding,  topped  with  Doric  caps  bear- 
ing rosettes  of  a  conventionalized  fleece  in  gold. 

For  the  ceiling  nothing  would  do,  it  seemed, 
but  oiled  beams  of  teak,  ornamented  with  ^gg 
and  dart,  bead  and  reel,  and  water  leaf  mould- 
ings, with  the  flat  surfaces  showing  paintings 
of  clouds  and  sea  birds  done  on  stretched  can- 
vas. 

"It  will  be  a  very  rich  apartment,"  Felicity  re- 
marked. "But  it  will  have  dignity — your  wife  will 
be  proud  to  follow  you  to  sea  in  it,  like  Cordelia 
Waterman  and  Rebecca  Dumaresq    .    .    ." 

"Oh,  yes — my  wife!" 

The  companionway  leading  down  into  the  cabin 
at  the  forward  end  was  ordered  of  Spanish  mahog- 
any, with  rails  and  turned  cable  posts  to  match,  and 
brass  edged  step  plates  with  rubber  treads.  On  the 
landing  they  hung  a  mirror  in  a  heavy  gold  cable 
frame. 

"Is  there  anything  more  ?"  Matthew  asked,  some- 
what bewildered  already. 

"Why,  yes — "  Felicity  smiled. 

A  walnut  table  and  chairs  of  ebony  inlaid  with 
holly,  cut  glass  door  knobs  and  bronze  hanging 

286 


HANDSPIKE  HASH 

lamps  attached  to  the  skylight,  a  velvet  tapestry  car- 
pet with  brocatel  cushions  for  the  divan  at  the  stern, 
and  brocade  and  damask  curtains. 

Matthew  himself  thought  of  a  few  additions.  A 
barometer,  for  instance,  to  hang  between  the  stern 
windows,  the  three  indispensable  chronometers,  and 
as  a  particular  extravagance  of  his  own,  a  painting 
in  oil  of  the  Felicity  Belle,  let  into  one  of  the  ebony 
panels  in  a  walnut  frame  gracefully  embellished 
with  gold  sea  shells  and  dolphins. 

And,  of  course,  in  the  opposite  panel,  a  specially 
constructed  walnut  cabinet  for  the  blue  Min  Hsing 
elephant,  dispenser  of  varied  fortunes,  who  seemed 
to  smile  more  broadly  than  ever  in  his  luxurious  new 
surroundings. 


So  she  was  launched  and  christened,  and  towed 
around  to  her  berth  in  the  East  River  from  Boston 
by  the  ubiquitous  R.  B.  Forbes,  and  they  began 
sending  out  her  advertising  cards — very  gaudy 
affairs,  as  befitting  a  new  ship,  bordered  in  gold, 
with  a  showy  picture  of  a  gentleman  purporting  to 
be    Jason,    reaching    for    the    golden    fleece,    and 

announcing  to  the  mercantile  world  that 

287 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

THE  NEW,  SPLENDID,  MAGNIFICENT 

Out  and  Out,  Extreme,  Al  First  Class 

Clipper  Ship 

GOLDEN    FLEECE 

Matthew  Parsons,  Master, 

Is  receiving  cargo  at  Pier  19,  E.  R., 

And  having  one  third  of  her  cargo  actually  aboard 

WILL    HAVE 

EXTRAORDINARY  DISPATCH 

FOR     CALIFORNIA 

And  then  finally  the  day  came  for  her  departure, 
and  the  Golden  Fleece  dropped  down  the  East 
River  from  the  loading  berth  to  her  anchorage  off 
the  Battery  to  take  on  the  remainder  of  her  crew, 
while  a  considerable  concourse  of  spectators 
gathered  in  the  Park  to  watch  the  new  clipper  put 
out  to  sea,  and  admire  her  shapely  hull  and  tower- 
ing masts. 

For  an  hour  or  more  she  was  the  center  of  a  busy 
swarm  of  Whitehall  boats,  scurrying  back  and 
forth,  bringing  odd  lots  of  sailors  and  their  dunnage 
to  be  put  aboard  under  the  eye  of  a  boarding  house 
runner,  many  of  them  in  varying  stages  of  blissful 
indifference  as  to  their  whereabouts,  identity  and 
destination ! 

288 


HANDSPIKE  HASH 
"Up  the  side  with  them  in  bowlines — 

'Hoist  them  up  in  a  running  bowline — 
Put  them  polishing  the  brass  work — 
Stop  their  grog  and  keep  them  sober — 
That's  what  I'll  do  with  a  drunken  sailor, 
Early  in  the  morning! 

'Aye,  aye  up  she  rises, 
Oh,  aye,  up  she  rises, 
Aye,  aye,  up  she  rises, 
Early  in  the  morning   .    .   /  " 

Then  a  hastily  scribbled  receipt  for  each  of  them 
from  the  mate  to  the  runner,  and  dump  them  into 
their  bunks  in  the  forecastle  to  sleep  it  off,  while  the 
gang  of  longshoremen  farseeingly  provided  were 
helping  to  get  the  ship  ready  for  sea. 

And  then  as  the  last  Whitehall  boat  left  her,  with 
the  roustabouts  scrambling  over  the  side,  the  tide 
began  to  turn  and  she  swung  easily  to  the  wind. 
From  the  Battery  they  could  see  the  pilot  in  con- 
sultation with  Matthew  on  the  quarterdeck.  Mr. 
Stimson  was  at  his  post,  in  charge  of  the  topgallant 
forecastle  with  the  ' 'third  blower,"  the  second  and 
fourth  mates  and  the  boatswain's  mate  were  stand- 
ing by  to  work  the  main  deck  and  watch  the  anchor 
come  in. 

w  289 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Such  of  the  crew  as  were  not  laboring  under  the 
delusion  that  they  were  still  in  a  Cherry  Street  dance 
hall  were  mustered  on  the  forecastle,  ready  to  man 
capstan  bars  and  ropes. 

The  Golden  Fleece  was  sailing. 

"Man  the  windlass,  Mr.  Stimson,  and  heave 
short    .    .    ."  the  order  went  forward. 

"All  right,  men,"  the  Mate  cried,  "heave  away  on 
the  windlass  brakes — and  strike  a  light !" 

Over  to  the  Battery  Park  the  chanty  man's  song 
went  floating,  while  the  anchor  began  to  come  in 
slowly  over  the  windlass. 

"In  eighteen  hundred  and  forty-six, 

I  found  myself  in  a  hell  of  a  fix, 

A  working  on  the  railway,  the  railway,  the  railway, 

In  eighteen  hundred  and  forty-seven, 

When  Dan  O'Connolly  went  to  Heaven, 

He  worked  upon  the  railway,  the  railway,  the  railway, 

In  eighteen  hundred  and  forty-eight, 

I  found  myself  bound  for  the  Golden  Gate, 

A  working  on  the  railway,  the  railway,  the  railway, 

Oh,  poor  Paddy  works  on  the  railway,  the  railway, 
» 

"Vast  heaving !"  came  the  cry.  "The  anchor's  apeak, 
Sir!" 

"Loose  sails  fore  and  aft    .    .    /' 
290 


HANDSPIKE  HASH 

"Aye,   aye    Sir — Aloft  there   you   scum,   loosen 
sails — royals  and  skysails,  leave  staysails  fast !" 
"Aye,  aye,  Sir!" 

"Oh,  go  fetch  me  down  my  riding  cane, 
For  I'm  off  to  see  my  darling  Jane — 

And  a  hog  eye! 
Oh,  the  hog  eye  men  are  all  the  go, 
When  they  come  down  to  San  Francisco " 


".  .  .  Cast  that  gasket  adrift  on  the  foretop- 
sail  yard — get  your  watch  tackles  along  to  the  topsail 
sheets — Hook  on  the  pendant,  you  lubbers    .    .    ." 

The  sails  were  loose,  fluttering  in  their  gear, 
courses,  topsails,  topgallantsails,  royals,  skysails. 

"Sheet  home  the  topsails !  Ease  down  handsomely 
as  the  sheets  come  home !" 

"Aye  aye,  Sir!" 

"Lively  there  with  those  bunt  lines — Belay  port 
main  topsail  sheet — rouse  home  the  starboard  sheet 
.    .    .  Now  then,  lay  down  on  the  mainyard " 

"Oh,  the  boys  and  the  girls 
Went  a  huckleberry  hunting, 
To  my  way — ah! 
Oh,  the  girls  began  to  cry 
And  the  boys  they  stopped  hunting, 
291 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

To  my  hi — lo, 

We'll  ranzo  way! 
Then  a  little  girl  ran  off 
And  a  boy  he  ran  after, 
And  the  little  girl  fell  down, 
And  he  saw  her  little  garter, 

To  my  way — ah! 
He  said  I'll  be  your  beau 
If  you'll  have  me  for  a  feller, 
But  the  little  girl  said,  no, 
For  my  sweetheart's  Johnny  Miller, 

To  my  hi — lo — 

We'll  ranzo  way!" 

"Belay  starboard — well  the  mizzen  topsail  sheets 
belay — Lead  out  topsail  halliards  fore  and  aft  and 
masthead  her    .    .    ." 

"Aye  aye,  Sir — long  pulls  now — walk  away  with 
it  handsomely!" 

"Belay  main  topsail  halliards    .    .    ." 

The  sails  were  set,  fore  and  aft.  The  anchor  was 
being  catted  with  a 

"Now,  my  lads,  get  your  beds  and  lie  down, 
With  a  hoodah,  and  a  doodah, 
New  York  City  is  on  fire, 
Hoodah,  doodah,  day! 
Blow,  boys,  blow, 
For  Californio, 
There's  plenty  of  gold, 
292 


HANDSPIKE  HASH 

So  Fve  been  told, 
On  the  banks  o' 
The  Sacramento !" 

The  Golden  Fleece  began  to  pay  off,  gathering 
way,  and  from  the  Battery  came  a  rousing  cheer. 

"Dip  the  ensign,"  commanded  Matthew. 

They  were  away,  down  the  Bay  with  a  bone  in 
her  teeth,  for  the  trip  around  the  Horn.    .    .    . 

6 

When  he  had  discharged  the  pilot  outside  of 
Sandy  Hook,  Matthew  turned  to  his  Mate. 

"What  kind  of  a  crew  do  we  seem  to  have  shipped 
this  time,  Mr.  Stimson?"  he  asked. 

The  Mate  turned  and  spat  over  the  rail  before 
replying. 

"It's  probably  the  biggest  gang  of,  now,  ruffianly 
cut-throats  and  blacklegs  ever  walked  a  deck,  if  you 
want  my  opinion,"  he  remarked. 

"Soak  me !    What  are  you  saying    .    .    ." 

"Well,  there's  supposed  to  be  fifty-six  men  before 
the  mast,  and  eight  boys.  Two  out  of  that  lot  are 
Americans,  and  I  doubt  if  we'll  find  more  than  six 
of  them  to  act  as  quarter-masters  and  stear  the 
ship." 

293 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Sinner's  redemption !" 

"As  for  those  two  Americans,  one  of  them  is 
that,  now,  missionary's  pet,  Panama  Joe,  who's 
no  more  than  a  cinder  from  the  devil's  own 
kitchen.  I've  sailed  with  him  before  in  the  Black 
Ball " 

"And  the  rest?" 

"Black  legs,"  said  Mr.  Stimson.  "Black  minded, 
yellow  livered,  black  legs.  Never  saw  a  ship  before 
except  in  a  picture  over  a  bar.  Don't  know  the 
difference  between  a,  now,  martingale  boom  and  a 
monkey  gaff." 

"How  did  we  draw  such  a  gang?" 

"Dance  hall  scum,  Sir,  on  their  way  to  the  gold 
mines,  stealing  a  ride.  Hardly  an  honest  packet  rat 
even  among  them.    This  will  be  a  sweet,  now,  trip !" 

"Mutiny?"  Matthew  asked  quietly. 

"Mutiny,  and  full  rigged  hell !"  said  the  Mate. 

Matthew  turned  away  and  leaned  over  the  rail  for 
a  moment,  watching  the  water  rippling  by.  Of 
course  it  was  not  too  late  to  put  back  and  secure  a 
new  crew  .  .  .  Then  he  drew  Mr.  Stimson  aside 
and  spoke  with  him  earnestly  for  a  while. 

".  .  .do  you  understand?  Muster  the  entire 
crew  aft — I'll  keep  them  busy  while  you're  at  it. 

294 


HANDSPIKE  HASH 

Take  the  mates,  and  the  carpenter,  and  the  boat- 
swain— report  to  me  afterwards  in  the  cabin.   .   .   ." 

All  hands  were  called  aft,  while  Mr.  Stimson  dis- 
appeared into  the  forecastle,  and  it  seemed  to  Mat- 
thew as  he  looked  at  them  there  before  him  that 
never  in  all  his  experience  had  he  seen  a  more  vil- 
lainous appearing  set  of  human  beings  than  this 
precious  crew  of  his. 

That  black  jawed,  hairy,  tattooed  one,  for  in- 
stance, they  called  Panama  Joe ! 

And  then  Matthew  began  to  talk  to  them,  slowly 
and  good  humoredly 

".  .  .  you  are  aboard  of  a  fine,  comfortable,  new 
ship — plenty  to  eat  and  good  pay,  clean  clothes — and 
very  little  work,  as  you  all  know.  What  work  there 
is  to  do  must  be  done  readily,  for  the  welfare  and 
safety  of  all,  and  when  your  officers  give  an  order  it 
must  be  obeyed  at  once.  It  may  mean  the  lives  of  the 
entire  ship's  company    .    .    ." 

".  .  .  we've  shipped  with  a  staggering  sky  pilot  I" 
someone  muttered,  but  Matthew  ignored  the  remark. 
Time  would  no  doubt  rectify  the  impression! 

"Just  one  word  more,"  he  continued.  "Before 
dismissing  you.  I  hope  none  of  you  have  brought 
spirits  on  board.    This  is  an  American  vessel,  and, 

295 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

as  you  all  know,  grog  is  not  allowed — it  stands  in 
the  underwriters'  contract.  Or  weapons  of  any  sort. 
Those  things  are  only  liable  to  make  trouble  at  sea. 
You'll  be  well  treated,  but  if  there's  so  much  as  a 
cat's  paw  of  insubordination  you  know  what  to 
expect!    That  will  do.    .    .    ." 

The  men  shuffled  forward  again,  grumbling 
among  themselves,  and  Matthew  went  below.  In  the 
cabin  he  found  Mr.  Stimson,  and  the  third  mate. 

"Well?"  he  asked  them. 

"Well,"  Mr.  Stimson  said.  "This  here,  now, 
floating  paradise,  the  Golden  Fleece,  is  less  of  a  navi- 
gating hardware  store  than  she  was  twenty  minutes 
ago!  We  broke  open  their  chests  and  ransacked 
their  bags,  and  heaved  the  lot  overboard." 

"The  lot!" 

"Everything  calculated  to  give  trouble,  I  mean — 
knives,  pistols,  sling  shots,  knuckle  dusters H 

"Rum  bottles !"  put  in  the  third  mate. 

"Yes,"  Mr.  Stimson  smiled.  "There's  only  hand- 
spikes and  belaying  pins  left  on  board  now,  by  way 
of  portable  implements  of  destruction,  and  I'm 
figuring  we'll  use  those  ourselves !" 

"Good,"  said  Matthew.  "A  little  handspike  hash 
will  do  wonders.    We'll  make  sailors  out  of  this  crew 

296 


HANDSPIKE  HASH 

yet.  If  necessary  I'll  put  padlocks  on  the  topsail 
sheets  \" 

"Aye  aye,  Sir — and  rackings  on  the  halliards  I" 

"Now,  Mr.  Stimson,  when  you  pick  your  watches, 
have  each  man  who  is  wearing  a  knife  lay  it  down 
on  the  main  hatch,  and  let  the  carpenter  break  off  the 
points  of  the  blades." 

"Aye  aye,  Sir " 

"And  instruct  the  officers  that  they  will  always 
come  on  deck  armed." 

"Very  good,  Sir." 

These  were  incongruous  matters  to  be  discussing, 
Matthew  could  not  help  thinking  to  himself,  in  the 
walnut  cabin  with  the  ebony  panels  inlaid  with  holly. 

"What  are  you  grinning  at?"  he  asked  the  ele- 
phant.   "You  mischief  swallower.    .    .    ." 

7 
Meanwhile  the  Golden  Fleece  was  surging  South- 
ward from  Sandy  Hook  to  the  Equator,  from  the 
Equator  to  50°  S.  Atlantic.  In  the  first  blow  she 
ran  into  the  Mate  danced  up  and  down  the  deck  like 
a  wild  Indian  at  the  sight  of  his  sails  slatting  to 
pieces  because  of  tKe  inability  of  the  crew  to  handle 
them. 

297 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"You  scum!"  he  roared  at  them.  "You  dregs 
from  hell's  coffee  pot !  I'll  teach  you  to  stand  there 
rolling  your  eyes !  Up  aloft  with  you  and  stow  those 
sails,  or  I'll  beat  the  living,  jumping  Jonah  out  of 
you " 

And  with  the  mates  and  the  sailmaker,  the  car- 
penter, the  steward  and  the  boatswain,  and  even  the 
grinning  darkie  cook  at  his  side,  the  crew  went  stum- 
bling aloft  in  a  cloud  of  capstan  bars  and  heavers! 

"Sweet  sailor's  life  !'*  Mr.  Stimson  panted  after- 
wards.   "It's  like  killing  seals !" 

Some  seven  weeks  of  this,  with  Matthew  and  his 
officers  on  their  guard  night  and  day,  and  the  crew 
muttering  and  growling  among  themselves,  and  the 
Golden  Fleece  began  to  meet  the  long  grey  rollers 
from  the  Cape.  One  Westerly  gale  after  another 
swept  down  against  her,  while  she  strained  forward 
with  skysail  yards  and  studdingsail  booms  sent 
down  for  the  fight  around  the  Horn,  and  Matthew 
and  the  mates  took  turns  waching  the  sheets  and 
halliards  to  prevent  the  crew  from  letting  them  go  by 
the  run. 

But  they  rounded  the  Horn  somehow,  after  losing 
three  men  from  aloft,  and  turned  to  the  Northwest 
with  all  sails  set,  studdingsails,  skysails,  ringtails,  to 

298 


HANDSPIKE  HASH 

Mr.  Stimson's  satisfaction — and  the  belaying  pins 
back  in  their  places  for  the  first  time ! 

And  with  the  crew  ominously  quiet,  and  suspi- 
ciously willing,  as  they  headed  from  50°  S.  Pacific  to 
the  Equator  again. 

"They  seem  to  have  settled  down,"  the  third  mate 
remarked  regretfully. 

"Yes — Fd  trust  any  one  of  them  with  an  empty 
bucket  from  here  as  far  as  the  rail !"  Mr.  Stimson 
replied  grimly. 

But  just  the  same  it  did  seem  as  though  the  worst 
of  the  voyage  were  over,  and  the  officers  began  to 
heglect  the  precaution  of  appearing  armed  at  all 
times. 

And  then  one  night  Matthew  was  aroused  out  of 
a  sound  sleep  by  the  sound  of  scuffling  footsteps 
from  above,  and  a  breathless  voice 

"Help  .   .   .  Help  .   .    .  Captain  Parsons  .   .   ." 

He  sprang  from  his  bunk,  and  rushed  through  the 
cabin  and  up  the  companionway.  Up  forward  on  the 
main  deck  in  the  moonlight,  with  his  back  against  the 
port  bulwark,  he  caught  sight  of  Mr.  Stimson,  fight- 
ing off  with  his  bare  fists  four  of  the  crew  who  had 
attacked  him.  His  shoulder  and  hands  were  cut  and 
bleeding,  and  blood  was  streaming  down  one  cheek. 

299 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Matthew  grabbed  an  iron  belaying  pin  from  the 
rail  and  sprang  forward  with  a  roar.  It  was  a  good 
deal  like  that  night  on  the  Cygnet  when  she  had 
come! 

"Kick  them  in  the  stomach,  Stimson!"  he  bel- 
lowed.   "I'm  with  you    .    .    ." 

He  swung  the  heavy  pin  with  both  hands  above 
him,  and  crashed  it  down  on  the  two  nearest  heads. 

"Blood  and  nouns !"  he  kept  grunting.  "Murder 
my  Mate,  would  you     .     .     .     Murder  my  Mate 

When  it  was  all  over — Mr.  Stimson  had  done  for 
one  of  them  himself — two  of  the  mutineers  were 
dead,  and  the  other  two  were  stunned  and  battered. 
One  of  them  was  the  evil  faced  Panama  Joe. 

They  were  put  in  irons  after  they  had  told  their 
story.  The  old  story  of  relaxed  vigilance  and  se- 
cretly fostered  mutiny,  culminating  in  this  murder- 
ous attack  on  the  hard  driving  Mate.  As  for  the 
two  corpses,  Matthew  routed  out  the  rest  of  the 
crew  and  pointed  to  them. 

"Take  a  good  look  at  these  pretty  galley  rats/'  he 
said.  "And  try  and  profit  by  their  example.  Then 
you  can  bury  the  murderers    .    .    ." 

"Sweet  sailor's  life!"  Mr.  Stimson  exclaimed  af- 
300 


HANDSPIKE  HASH 

terwards  when  he  was  having  his  wounds  dressed  in 
the  cabin.  "Jumped  at  me  fr°m  behind,  the  murder- 
ing cockroaches!  I  thought,  now,  no  one  would 
ever  come !" 

But  he  did  not  tell  Matthew  that  he  had  caught 
them  first  preparing  to  sneak  down  the  companion- 
way  into  the  main  cabin. 

"We'll  have  trouble  with  them  yet!"  prophesied 
the  third  mate,  as  though  he  were  looking  forward 
to  it. 

"I'll  trouble  them,"  stormed  Matthew.  "I'll 
trouble  them  with  handspikes !" 

"This  may  be  a  maiden  voyage,  but  there's  noth- 
ing so  very,  now,  maidenly  about  it!"  remarked 
Mr.  Stimson    .    .    . 

8 

And  in  the  meantime,  boatload  after  boatload  of 
reckless  men,  speculators,  gamblers,  politicians, 
dreamers,  were  roaring  and  singing  their  way  down 
to  the  Isthmus — Red  shirted,  slouch  hatted,  bearded 
men,  armed  with  bowie  knives  and  repeating  pistols, 
arguing  endlessly  about  California,  storming  the 
saloon  at  meal  time,  and  firing  sudden  broadsides 
at  the  passing  schools  of  dolphins. 

301 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Tramping  about  the  floorless  Crescent  City  Hotel 
at  Chagres,  wrangling  over  boats  for  the  trip  up  the 
river,  and  then  most  of  them  splashing  ashore  at 
Gorgona  to  finish  the  journey  to  Panama  by  mule. 

Along  the  death  stricken,  cholera  haunted  Gorgona 
trail,  with  the  mules  sinking  deeper  and  deeper  into 
the  clinging  mud  pits  of  each  other's  hoof  prints, 
under  a  broiling,  fever  brewing  sun. 

And  then  in  the  midst  of  the  gambling  hells  and 
foul  smelling  saloons  of  that  forsaken  city  of 
Panama,  waiting  on  the  beach  a  thousand  strong  for 
the  promised  packets,  racing  in  small  boats  out  to 
the  anchorage,  eleven  miles  away,  to  fight  their  way 
aboard  an  overcrowded,  ill  provisioned  hulk. 

Some  of  them  even  starting  out  hopefully,  or  it 
may  have  been  deliriously,  to  row  '  'North" 

".    .    .  oh,  Susanna, 
Don't  you  cry  for  me, 
I'm  off  for  California 
With  my  wash  bowl  on  my  knee    .    .    ." 

And  among  them  a  pale,  sickly  youth,  and  a  golden 
haired  girl.    .    .    . 


302 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  NIGHTINGALE  OF  PANAMA 

1 

T^ROM  the  very  first,  almost,  it  had  been  certain 
that  they  would  be  caught  up  in  the  California 
whirlwind,  and  driven,  like  helpless  scurrying  leaves, 
onto  the  scorching  Panama  beaches.  For  Enoch 
Crane,  the  pale,  sickly  youth,  was  a  dreamer  for 
whom  the  only  escape  from  the  suffering  monotony 
of  his  ailing  days  lay  in  the  visions  which  thronged 
his  intense  poet's  imagination.  The  imagination 
that  gleamed  in  his  dark  rimmed  eyes  and  rested 
like  a  trail  of  light  on  his  delicate  brow,  burning 
itself  out  with  a  fierce  longing  within  the  frailty 
of  its  containing  body. 

And  of  course  it  was  the  dreamers,  the  restless 
ones,  the  yearning  imprisoned  spirits,  who,  more 
than  any  others  at  first  perhaps,  heard  the  golden 
name  of  California  singing  its  siren  song  of  ad- 

303 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

venturous  allurement.  The  ones  who  were  stirred 
by  the  rhythm  of  spraying  surfs  on  distant  sunny 
shores,  whose  blood  went  leaping  at  the  world  old 
thought  of  pioneer  discovery — that  one  saving  trait 
which  invests  with  a  lingering  glamour  the  crime 
blackened  chronicle  of  the  ancient  Conquistadors — 
in  whose  dazzled  eyes  shone  the  glory,  not  of  the 
precious  gold  to  be  found,  but  of  its  infinitely  more 
precious  finding. 

"It  is  not  the  destination  that  matters,  Goldie," 
Enoch  would  always  be  saying  to  his  sister.  That 
was  the  endearing  name  which  their  mother, 
now  long  since  laid  to  rest  in  Cambridge  church- 
yard, had  preferred  for  her  little  golden  haired 
daughter. 

"No,  Enoch  ?    What  is  it  then  ?" 

"It  is  the  journey  itself.  Not  the  golden  fleece 
torn  from  its  branch,  but  the  sight  of  it  upon  the 
shore,  after  the  perilous  voyage  in  the  company  of 
heroes.    That  is  what  matters." 

"There  are  no  heroes  going  to  California,"  she 
would  try  to  persuade  him,  for  already  she  knew  the 
thought  that  was  in  his  mind. 

"Each  one  who  embarks  on  an  untried  journey  is 
a  hero,"  he  always  insisted,  "with  a  little  of  the 

304 


THE  NIGHTINGALE  OF  PANAMA 

blood  of  Jason,  and  Magellan,  and  Ponce  de  Leon 
in  his  heart." 

"I  calculate  they  have  filled  your  mind  with 
bookish  dreams  at  the  Academy!"  she  exclaimed 
once. 

"It  did  not  need  the  books  for  the  dreams  to 
come.  I  would  admire  to  see  the  gold  rivers  before 
I  die." 

"Hush,  Enoch!  You  must  not  speak  of  dying, 
nor  waste  your  strength  on  such  fidgeting." 

"Still,  I  would  admire  to  see  the  gold  rivers  of 
El  Dorado!" 

"And  would  you  leave  me,  then,  Enoch?" 

He  did  not  reply,  and  looked  away,  but  in  her 
heart  she  knew  that  he  had  answered. 


From  that  day  she  understood  that  sooner  or  later 
he  would  go,  while  yet  his  strength  might  be  made 
to  keep  pace  with  his  courage.  Go  from  their  little 
rooms  under  the  garret  in  noisy  Ann  Street  out  into 
the  beckoning  world,  confident  that  she  would  fol- 
low. She  knew  that,  just  as  surely  as  that  in  a 
very  little  while  now  he  must  lose  his  race  against 
the   frailty  and  sickness  which  were  outstripping 

305 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

him.  Perhaps  after  all  he  should  not  be  begrudged 
his  coveted  sight  of  the  gold  rivers. 

And  just  as  surely,  also,  she  knew  that  when  he 
went  she  would  go  too.  They  were  all  in  all  to  each 
other;  without  her  he  would  have  been  as  a  little 
child  lost  in  a  busy  market  place,  and  without  him 
the  warmth  would  be  departed  from  her  sunshine. 

Which  was  perhaps  the  reason  why  she,  who  had 
no  secrets  from  her  brother,  had  never  told  him  of 
that  night  on  the  Cygnet,  and  of  the  young  dandy 
who  had  made  her  stammer.  Had  never  let  him 
see  the  yearning  sadness  of  her  gaze,  searching  the 
Bay  for  incoming  vessels,  on  those  mornings  when 
she  took  him  to  sit  for  a  while  under  the  trees  on 
the  Battery,  and  only  half  listened  to  his  flowery  de- 
scriptions of  other  lands  learned  from  his  books,  as 
the  great  ships  went  sailing  by. 

And  then  one  evening  at  the  Garden  a  boy  had 
brought  her  a  message,  and  in  a  moment  she  had 
found  herself  face  to  face  once  more  with  the  young 
dandy  who  was  now  a  Captain,  and  who  had  made 
her  stammer  again  almost  at  once. 

But  while  she  trembled  with  joy  at  his  coming, 
she  summoned  up  all  her  courage  against  him,  for 
in  that  moment  she  knew  that  more  than  ever  now 

306 


THE  NIGHTINGALE  OF  PANAMA 

she  must  keep  silent  the  song  that  was  in  her  heart. 
From  the  brother,  whose  race  was  nearly  run  and 
must  be  followed  to  its  close  along  whatever  roady 
and  from  the  other  who  would  have  held  her,  and 
perhaps  too  willingly,  from  her  loyal  purpose. 

And  so  she  kept  it  silent,  that  song  that  was  in 
her  heart,  with  a  smile  that  trembled  with  tears,  a 
smile  of  enduring  faithfulness  for  the  one,  a  mock- 
ing smile  concealing  its  tenderness  for  the  other. 
But  the  song  that  was  on  her  lips  she  did  not  think 
to  keep  silent.  The  Song  that  was  started  on  its 
world  wide  journey,  the  Song  with  Matthew's 
words  so  closely  treasured  on  their  crumpled  scrap 
of  paper. 

"Oh,  Susanna, 
Don't  you  cry  for  me, 
I'm  off  for  California 
With  my  wash  bowl  on  my  knee    .    .    ." 

So  she  sang,  and  sent  them  laughing  to  the  wharves, 
and  among  them  finally,  of  course,  Enoch  himself. 
She  had  been  resigned  to  it  for  days,  but  when 
the  time  came  it  took  her  breathlessly  by  surprise. 
Two  passages  had  been  surrendered  for  the  Isthmus 
— it  was  a  fine,  clear,  stirring  morning  and  Enoch 
had  responded  to  the  treacherous  vigor  of  his  oc- 

307 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

casional  convalescent  moments — they  were  to  sail 
the  next  day. 

There  was  just  time  in  the  midst  of  her  sudden, 
countless  other  cares  to  send  that  message  to  the 
Garden.  A  line  of  explanation,  a  sentence  of  hope- 
ful promise  if  their  future  paths  should  cross,  a 
little  consoling  word  of  love  frankly  offered  to  keep 
him  company.  The  message  which  Matthew  never 
received. 

And  then  they  were  off  on  an  untried  journey,  in 
the  company  of  heroes,  to  see  the  gold  rivers  of  El 
Dorado  before  he  died — so,  she  knew,  it  seemed  to 
Enoch,  and  took  comfort  in  that  knowledge  from 
her  own  grief. 


The  first  leg  of  the  voyage,  to  Chagres,  passed 
pleasantly  enough,  and  in  comparative  comfort,  in 
the  midst  of  the  good  natured,  exuberant  crowd 
who  made  up  the  ship's  company.  The  boyish  de- 
light in  every  detail  shown  by  the  gentle  mannered 
youth,  and  the  devotion  of  the  lovely  girl  at  his 
side,  attracted  friendly  attentions  to  them  from  the 
start,  and,  after  that  first  evening  when  she  sang 
unexpectedly,  grateful  kindnesses  were  showered  on 

308 


THE  NIGHTINGALE  OF  PANAMA 

them  by  every  one  aboard.  It  really  seemed  as  though 
Enoch  were  improving  under  the  sun  and  wind,  he 
walked  with  a  firmer  tread,  and  his  laughter  rang 
happily  along  the  deck. 

In  Chagres  too  they  were  favored,  and  made 
their  escape  from  that  offal  littered  settlement 
among  the  swamps  in  one  of  the  first  palmetto 
roofed  dugouts  to  leave.  Up  the  river  to  Gatun, 
through  the  jungle  rilled  with  scarlet  blossoms  and 
screaming  parrots,  in  the  emerald  half  light  of  a 
tropical  afternoon. 

"Is  it  not  better  than  Ann  Street,  Goldie?,,  Enoch 
asked  her. 

"It  is  very  beautiful — and  unreal." 

"It  is  the  old  treasure  road  of  the  Spaniards  be- 
come a  golden  highway  once  again.  A  pity  that  the 
ship  could  not  make  the  whole  journey." 

"What  a  whimsy,  Enoch !" 

"But  it  has  often  been  thought  of,  the  project  of 
a  canal  to  unite  the  two  oceans.  Three  hundred 
years  ago  the  Portuguese  and  the  Spaniards  were 
minded  that  it  should  be  done,  but  Philip  II  would 
not  hear  of  it." 

"For  that  I  do  not  blame  him — tampering  with 
God's  creation  indeed!" 

309 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"There  would  be  no  irreverence  in  making  His 
gifts  more  fruitful,  Goldie.  Think  on  the  parable 
of  the  faithful  steward  and  the  talents!  It  will 
come,  the  canal,  of  that  I  am  sure.  Only  a  little 
more  than  ten  years  since  the  Dutch  were  speaking 
of  it  again." 

"You  are  dreaming,  Enoch!  You  must  rest  a 
little  now.     .     .     ." 

And  so  on  past  bamboo  villages  swarming  with 
lazily  indifferent,  cigar  smoking  natives,  sleeping 
ashore  at  night  in  hammocks,  for  three  days  up  the 
constantly  narrowing  torrential  stream,  and  then  it 
was  Gorgona  and  the  patient  mules.  They  were  to 
have  gone  on  to  Cruces  of  course,  but  like  the  ma- 
jority of  the  others  Enoch  was  growing  restless 
and  determined  to  land. 

Gorgona,  and  the  trail  to  Panama  City.  There 
was  something  ominous  in  the  very  name.  Damp, 
cheerless  forests  resounding  with  the  impudent  chat- 
ter of  monkeys,  deep  ravines  filled  with  the  clinging 
breath  of  poisonous  swamps,  mountain  passes  under 
the  steaming  sun,  shiny,  sticky  clay  pits  into  which 
the  mules  sank  interminably,  watched  over  by  death 
scenting  vultures.     .     .     . 

It  was  a  journey  to  test  the  endurance  of  the  most 
310 


THE  NIGHTINGALE  OF  PANAMA 

robust,  and  break  the  courage  of  healthy  men  ac- 
customed to  every  hardship.  For  Enoch  it  was  pure 
suicidal  folly.  She  understood  that  now  it  was  too 
late.  As  she  had  once  said  to  Matthew,  curiosity 
always  had  the  better  of  it  until  it  was  too  late  to 
mend !  As  for  her,  it  was  probably  only  the  neces- 
sity of  caring  for  Enoch  that  kept  her  alive. 

They  came  to  Panama  at  last,  an  utterly  exhausted 
girl,  worn  to  a  staring  shadow,  holding  in  the  sad- 
dle the  ghost  of  a  youth  raving  with  fever. 

"It  was  pleasant  on  the  river — pleasant  on  the 
river — "  he  kept  babbling.  '  'Always  follow  the 
rivers    .    .    ." 


For  days  and  nights  she  nursed  him,  in  the  little 
back  room  of  a  German  lodging  house,  struggling 
with  him  in  his  delirium,  ready  with  her  brave  smile 
during  his  lucid  moments,  while  the  roaring  din 
of  the  overcrowded  city  arose  around  them.  When 
their  money  gave  out  she  went  forth  courageously 
through  the  little,  twisted  streets,  between  the  an- 
cient painted  buildings  with  their  overhanging  bal- 
conies, and  sang  before  the  entrances  of  eating 
houses  and  gambling  palaces. 

311 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Men  called  her  the  Nightingale  of  Panama,  and  it 
seemed  as  though  for  a  while  after  her  passing  the 
crooked  alleys  and  the  swarming  plazas  were 
cleaner,  and  fresher,  and  sweeter.  As  for  Enoch, 
he  never  found  out  that  she  had  done  this,  alone  and 
unafraid,  to  keep  him  alive. 

And  then  one  evening  she  returned  to  the  little 
back  room  to  give  him  his  supper,  and  he  was  gone. 
He  had  been  resting  quietly  when  she  left  him,  and 
had  seemed  better  and  less  feverish.  And  now  sud- 
denly he  was  gone. 

"Mercy!"  she  exclaimed,  and  stood  quite  still 
in  the  middle  of  the  room,  gazing  at  the  empty 
cot.  Another  girl  would  perhaps  have  fainted, 
or  screamed,  or  wept,  and  not  have  been  the 
more  to  blame  for  it,  but  of  course  she  must 
actually  contrive  to  smile  in  her  unexpected 
way! 

"The  loony,"  she  said  to  herself  quietly.  "He  has 
been  raving  all  this  long  time  of  rivers — he  will  have 
gone  to  seek  the  water    .    .    ." 

She  hurried  out  of  the  house,  and  along  the  nar- 
row, winding  streets  to  the  waterfront,  and  there  on 
the  moonlit  beach  she  found  him  finally,  clambering 
weakly  into  a  boat.    Weakly,  pale  shadow  that  he 

312 


THE  NIGHTINGALE  OF  PANAMA 

was,  but  with  extraordinary  strength  when  she  tried 
to  stop  him. 

"Enoch,"  she  said  to  him.  "Enoch — would  you 
not  admire  to  have  your  supper  first?" 

He  shook  off  her  hand  and  seized  the  oais,  and 
she  saw  that  fever  had  gripped  him  again,  so  that  he 
did  not  even  know  her. 

"Let  me  be,"  he  warned  her.  "We  should  never 
have  left  the  river — now  it  will  be  all  right — we 
must  follow  the  river    .    .    ." 

She  knew  from  the  experience  of  these  last  days 
that  there  would  be  no  stopping  him  except  by  the 
most  patient  persuasion,  and  this  would  be  impos- 
sible unless  she  were  at  his  side,  with  him  in  the 
boat. 

"That  is  right,"  she  said  to  him  at  once,  with  a 
smile.  "We  must  follow  the  river — may  I  accom- 
pany you?" 

"Oh,  do  you  seek  the  river  also  ?"  he  smiled  back 
at  her  confidently.  "You  may  come,  and  welcome, 
as  long  as  you  do  not  require  me  to  leave  the  river." 

She  was  near  him  in  a  second,  sitting  silently, 
watching  him  warily,  with  her  hands  folded  in  her 
lap.  It  would  be  useless  at  first  to  attempt  to  alter 
his  purpose.    She  must  humor  him  for  a  little  while 

313 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

until  he  grew  weary,  and  more  amenable  to  reason. 
It  could  not  be  for  long  in  his  present  condition. 
But  she  had  not  calculated  on  the  spasmodic  strength 
derived  from  his  delirium,  and  to  her  dismay  she 
saw  him  rowing  steadily,  further  and  further  from 
shore,  with  the  land  breeze  astern,  and  a  running 
tide  under  their  keel. 

She  put  out  her  hand  and  touched  him  on  the 
arm,  but  he  jumped  aside  so  that  the  boat  nearly 
upset. 

"I  will  be  obliged  to  put  you  ashore  again  if  you 
attempt  interference,"  he  told  her  solemnly.  "These 
river  boats  are  difficultly  handled    .    .    ." 

She  let  him  go  on  then  for  a  time,  fearful  of  a 
worse  catastrophe,  while  she  sought  for  a  way  to 
appeal  to  him. 

' 'Enoch,"  she  said  finally,  with  a  pitiful  cunning. 
"You  are  running  aground — there  is  a  turn  in  the 
river." 

"No,"  he  replied  without  even  looking  up.  "Not 
in  this  river.  This  river  runs  straight  to  Cali- 
fornia!" 

"Mercy !"  she  whispered,  and  sat  for  a  long  while 
staring  at  him,  but  she  was  thinking  of  Matthew 
oddly  enough. 

314 


THE  NIGHTINGALE  OF  PANAMA 

"I  am  a  sailor,  and  must  sail  with  the  tides,"  he 
had  said,  and  now  it  was  they  who  were  going  out 
with  the  tide. 

5 

It  was  a  long  time  afterwards,  an  endlessly  long 
time  it  seemed  to  her — perhaps  it  may  only  have  been 
a  few  minutes  as  time  was  measured  in  Ann  Street 
— when  Enoch  suddenly  stopped  rowing  and 
straightened  up. 

"I  calculate  I  am  weary,"  he  said,  and  she  heard 
the  more  docile  tone  in  his  voice  with  relief.  "I 
would  admire  to  rest  for  a  spell." 

"Yes,  Enoch,"  she  encouraged  him.  "Lie  down 
and  sleep  do " 

With  gentle,  ministering  hands  she  helped  him  to 
settle  himself  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  placed 
her  shawl  under  his  head. 

"Do  not  leave  the  river,"  he  murmured  once. 

"No,  Enoch,"  she  assured  him,  and  turned  to 
where  he  had  been  sitting — and  then  she  laughed, 
as  she  might  have  laughed  at  Matthew,  up  there  on 
the  stage  in  the  Pacific  Garden. 

And  yet  it  was  a  terrible  thing  that  she  was  laugh- 
ing at,  adrift  on  the  lonely  waters. 

315 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"What  a  ninny  I  am,  to  be  sure,"  she  remarked. 
"And  a  pity  too  I  did  not  fetch  the  supper  along, 
since  now  we — we  may  not  leave  the  river!"  And 
then  she  kneeled  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat  beside 
Enoch,  and  began  to  cry  softly  at  last. 

The  oars !  She  had  not  thought  to  look  before — 
the  oars  were  gone.    .    .    . 


316 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE  SYDNEY  DUCKS 


"TIGHT  bells,  Sir!" 
**■     "Strike  eight  bells." 
"Aye  aye,  Sir " 

Ding-ding — ding-ding — 
Ding-ding — ding-ding    .    .    . 

"Latitude  37°  48'  N.,  longitude  122°  30'  W.," 
Matthew  inscribed  it  in  the  log  book.  "Calm  fol- 
lowing sea,  wind  moderate,  one  hundred  and  twelve 
days  from  New  York.  We  are  at  this  moment  en- 
tering the  Golden  Gate." 

"Feast  your  eyes  on  this,  now,  Yerba  Buena!" 
Mr.  Stimson  remarked  a  little  later. 

San  Francisco !    Forty-niner's  San  Francisco 

Stretched  out  along  its  low  black  sandy  beach, 
fringing  the  shore  of  Yerba  Buena  Cove,  among  the 
restless  sand  hills,  covered  with  sage  bush  and  cha- 

317 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

parral,  struggling  to  maintain  a  stunted  growth  of 
oak  and  sickly  laurel.  From  Clark's  Point  and  the 
rocks,  at  the  foot  of  Telegraph  Hill,  past  the  Clay 
Street  slopes  and  the  California  Street  ridges,  over 
the  Market  Street  heights  through  the  Happy  Valley, 
as  far  out  as  Rincon  Point    .    .    . 

A  scattering  of  wooden  shacks  and  shanties,  a 
cluster  of  crumbling  adobe  and  rickety  frame 
buildings,  the  sudden,  rare  excrescence  of  solid  brick, 
a  wandering  maze  of  tents  and  lean-tos — canvas, 
rubber,  mud,  and  muslin.    .    .    . 

The  Broadway  Pier  at  Clark's  Point,  near  San- 
some  Street — Long  Wharf  at  the  extension  of  Com- 
mercial Street — the  flag  pole  in  the  Plaza  in  front 
of  the  old  adobe  Custom  House — Montgomery 
Street  along  the  water's  edge    .    .    . 

Sydney  Town — Little  Chile — Keskydee  Ville — 
the  Mission    .    .    . 

All  under  the  California  sun,  in  the  California 
wind  swirling  its  ceaseless  clouds  of  dust    .    .    . 

2 

As  Matthew  had  warned  them  in  the  Parsons  and 
Moore  counting  room,  no  sooner  had  the  Golden 
Fleece  dropped  her  anchor  in  the  Bay  than  one  half 

318 


THE  SYDNEY  DUCKS 

of  her  crew  went  over  the  side,  without  so  much  as 
waiting  for  their  pay,  and  swam  ashore !  The  other 
half  followed  almost  at  once  in  the  small  boats  be- 
longing to  the  crimps  and  runners  who  had  hastened 
aboard  as  soon  as  the  vessel's  arrival  had  been  her- 
alded from  Telegraph  Hill. 

"Good  riddance!"  Mr.  Stimson  called  after  them. 
"I  hope  you  all  choke  to  death  on  gold  dust — you 
crawling  centipedes !" 

All  around  the  Golden  Fleece  arose  a  melancholy 
forests  of  bare  masts  belonging  to  hundreds  of  ves- 
sels lying  similarly  abandoned,  while  their  crews 
and  officers  sought  the  supposed  riches  to  be  gath- 
ered from  the  trees — many  of  them  destined  to  de- 
cay idly  at  their  moorings,  some  few  fated  to  an 
incongruous  career  ashore  as  store  houses  and  hotels, 
and  as  jails. 

"Soak  me  I"  Matthew  said  as  he  saw  them.  "This 
isn't  a  port,  it's  a  graveyard !" 

The  Golden  Fleece,  herself  would  have  stayed  out 
there  in  the  Bay  forever  if  the  Parsons  and  Moore 
agent,  Mr.  Luscomb,  had  not  thought  to  send  out 
a  gang  of  longshoremen,  who  heaved  up  the  anchor 
in  a  leisurely  manner  with  a  sing  song  whose  chorus 

seemed  to  be 

319 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

'.    .    .  ri  tu  di  nu,  ri  til  di  nu, 
Ri  tu  di  nu  di  na!" 


and  then  put  her  at  Long  Wharf  in  twice  the  time 
it  would  have  taken  her  to  back  into  her  slip  in  the 
East  River  unassisted — to  the  tune  of  a  pay  roll 
whose  chorus  seemed  to  be  five  dollars  an  hour  per 
man! 

"Blood  ana  nouns!"  Matthew  cried.  "How  can 
you  afford  to  pay  such  wages?" 

"Oh,  that's  nothing,"  Mr.  Luscomb  explained. 
"You'll  have  to  get  used  to  the  prices  here.  People 
will  pay  anything  for  what  they  want.  Just  think, 
bread  costs  four  bits  a  loaf " 

"Four  bits,  how  much  is  that?" 

"Fifty  cents.  Butter  costs  a  dollar  and  a  half  a 
pound.  You  can't  get  eggs  for  less  than  two  dol- 
lars a  dozen — a  hen  brings  four  dollars — Know 
what  we  pay  for  lumber?" 

"I  know  it's  worth  twelve  dollars  a  thousand  feet 
in  New  York " 

"Well,  here  you  pay  five  hundred  dollars !" 

"Rum  and  hornets !" 

"If  you've  got  any  paper  aboard  you  can  sell  it 
for  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  sheet." 

320 


THE  SYDNEY  DUCKS 

"Do  you  take  me  for  a  marine  ?"    Matthew  asked. 

"No,  really,  it's  a  fact,"  Mr.  Luscomb  assured 
him.  "There  is  such  a  shortage  of  everything  that 
a  man  can  make  a  fortune  who  is  able  to  provide 
any  of  the  ordinary  necessities,  or  improvise  a  sub- 
stitute. The  other  day  a  man  I  know  bought  a 
package  of  tin  tacks  from  a  ship's  carpenter  for 
five  hundred  dollars.  He  owns  all  the  tin  tacks  there 
are  in  San  Francisco  today,  and  sells  them  for  ten 
dollars  a  tack !" 

"No " 

"If  you  have  any  tacks  for  sale  he  will  probably 
pay  you  a  thousand  dollars  for  them  to  maintain  his 
corner — and  then  raise  his  retail  price  again  to 
catch  up !" 

"But  where  do  they  get  the  money  for  such  ex- 
travagance?"    Matthew  marvelled. 

"At  the  diggings — those  that  have  any,  that  is — 
and  by  ingenuity.  A  man  went  out  some  time  ago 
and  collected  all  the  empty  pickle  jars  that  had  been 
thrown  away.  Then  he  bought  a  barrel  of  vinegar 
from  a  ship  at  ordinary  Eastern  prices.  Now  he 
owns  the  only  pickle  factory  in  town.  He  is  worth 
thousands,  and  when  he  landed  he  had  barely  the 
price  of  the  vinegar  barrel  on  him !" 

321 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"I  would  not  have  thought  of  it !" 

"Money  is  more  easily  obtained  than  tin  tacks  or 
pickles.  Why,  in  the  last  eight  weeks  over  six 
hundred  thousand  dollars  in  gold  dust  has  reached 
San  Francisco  just  to  buy  supplies  for  the  camps." 

"Soak  me!" 

"Oh,  I  can  tell  you  more  startling  things  than  that 
concerning  prices!"  Mr.  Luscomb  went  on. 
"Loans,  for  instance — the  current  rate  of  interest 
is  anywhere  from  eight  to  fifteen  per  cent  a  month 
— although  I  have  seen  it  as  high  as  twenty-five  per 
cent  a  week." 

"A  week!" 

"Yes,  everything  is  figured  by  the  week  or  by  the 
month.  A  longer  period  would  be  too  uncertain  the 
way  things  are  fixed  now.  What  do  you  think  land 
is  worth?" 

"I  would  not  dare  to  venture  a  guess!"  Mat- 
thew smiled. 

"As  high  as  a  thousand  dollars  a  foot  on  the 
Plaza!  Rents  are  simply  terrific — three  thousand 
dollars  a  month  for  a  small  shack  of  a  store — I 
know  of  a  two  story  building  that  brings  what 
amounts  to  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  dol- 
lars a  year." 

322 


THE  SYDNEY  DUCKS 

"Go  on !    I  admire  to  hear  you." 

"Well,  the  Parker  House — that's  a  sixty  foot  two 
a  half  story  frame  house — brings  fifteen  thousand 
dollars  a  month.  That  is  one  hundred  and  eighty 
thousand  a  year !  The  gambling  rooms  on  the  sec- 
ond floor  pay  half  of  it.  Why  the  subleases  bring 
in  about  fifty  thousand  dollars  profit." 

"It  is  unbelievable " 

"That's  nothing — the  El  Dorado  tent  leases  for 
forty  thousand.  They  charge  one  hundred  and 
eighty  dollars  a  day  there  for  a  private  gamb- 
ling apartment." 

"That  is  over  five  thousand  dollars  a  month  for 
reserved  space  in  a  tent!  It  is  well  named — El 
Dorado." 

"It  is  the  same  everywhere — those  stevedores 
there  will  get  twenty-five  dollars  a  day  for  putting 
your  cargo  ashore — that  is  to  say  for  dumping  it  out 
on  the  beach  where  such  of  it  as  is  not  auctioned  off 
at  once  will  probably  rot,  unless  they  use  the  goods 
to  fill  in  the  streets  when  the  muddy  season  comes 
around " 

"But  that  is  criminal  waste !" 

"The  meaning  of  the  word  is  unknown  in  San 
Francisco!     Look  at  the  stuff  they  ship  out  here. 

323 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

We  lack  paper  to  write  on  and  they  send  us  statuary, 
and  chandeliers,  and  music  boxes.  Our  bars  are 
better  furnished  than  the  places  we  call  our  homes ! 
Here,  this  is  the  notice  of  a  raffle  in  the  A Ita  Cali- 
fornia for  today,  listen 

*A  splendid  Shell  Mechanical  Box,  in  a 
Morocco  case,  containing  a  little  bird  of  rich 
plumage  which  rises  at  discretion  from  under 
a  neatly  ornamented  lid 

Flaps  its  wings 


Moves  its  plumage,  head  and  tail  in  every 
direction 

Imitates  the  notes  of  the  humming  bird, 
and  then 

Retires. 

The  lid  represents  one  of  the  handsomest 
landscapes  on  Lake  Geneva.  Valued  at  se  /en 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars/ 

You  will  agree  that  a  bag  or  two  of  Chileno  flour 
are  of  no  consequence  when  we  are  prepared  to  take 
chances  on  a  little  bird  of  rich  plumage,  who  imi- 
tates  the   note    of   the   humming   bird   and   then 

retires !" 

324 


THE  SYDNEY  DUCKS 

"Soak  me !"  Matthew  laughed.  "Do  they  raffle 
such  things!  And  do  they  really  use  merchandise 
to  fill  the  mud  holes?" 

"Surely.  You  should  have  seen  the  streets  last 
winter.  Mud  enough  to  swallow  a  mule,  and  every- 
thing from  stoves  and  coffee  bags  thrown  in  to 
provide  a  footing — no,  out  here  if  a  man  needs  a 
flooring  for  his  shack  he  steals  tierces  of  tobacco 
and  sinks  them  into  the  foundations !" 

"Well,  thank  fortune  my  responsibility  for  the 
cargo  ends  when  the  goods  are  ashore !"  Matthew 
remarked.  "And  that  reminds  me,  I  have  some  other 
merchandise  to  put  ashore.    Is  there  a  jail?" 

"Certainly " 

"I  have  five  buckos  to  turn  over — two  would  be 
murderers,  and  three  rigging  slashers.  You  can 
use  them  for  street  paving,  and  welcome." 

"We  will  hand  the  bummers  to  the  Alcalde." 

"Mr.  Stimson — oh,  Mr.  Stimson,  bring  up  the 
men  in  irons,  Panama  Joe  and  the  other  four    .    .    ." 

"Sweet  sailor's  life!"  Mr.  Stimson  reported  a 
few  moments  later.  "The  brig  is  empty  as  a,  now, 
scuttle  butt  run  dry — those  staggering  cockroaches 
have  flown  ashore  along  with  the  rest  of  the 
vermin!" 

325 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Broke  loose,  did  they?  I  calculate  some  of  the 
crew  released  them — it  will  save  us  hanging  two  of 
them.,, 

"There'll  be  trouble  from  them  yet!"  the  third 
mate  prophesied,  as  hopefully  as  ever. 

"They  had  better  not  let  me  catch  any  of  them 
ashore,  or  I'll  trouble  them."  Matthew  remarked — 
but  it  was  destined  to  be  otherwise. 


"What  goes  forward  ?"  Matthew  asked  Mr.  Lus- 
comb  as  they  went  up  Commercial  Street  towards 
Kearney.     "What  is  all  the  to-do  about?" 

"It  is  a  Cheap  John  holding  an  auction.  Since 
there  are  no  warehouses  worthy  of  the  name  almost 
everything  is  auctioned  off  as  soon  as  possible.  This 
is  the  street  for  the  Cheap  Johns — up  at  the  better 
class  dealers,  such  as  the  Bee  Hive,  for  instance,  on 
the  Plaza,  they  have  brass  bands  to  attract  cus- 
tom  " 

"Mr.  Barnum  could  not  do  better !" 

"It  is  a  sort  of  perpetual  auction,  because  the 
miners  who  come  in  to  buy  new  outfits  change  into 
them  on  the  spot  and  throw  all  their  old  things  out 

326 


THE  SYDNEY  DUCKS 

into  the  street — and  then  the  Cheap  John  auctions 
those  off  in  turn !" 

"Soak  me,  but  Mr.  Stimson  was  right " 

"This  here,  now,  San  Francisco,"  the  Mate  had 
said.  "Looks  more  like  a  county  fair  than  a  town 
tome    .    .    ." 

And  so  on  they  went  into  Kearney  Street  and  the 
Plaza,  or  Portsmouth  Square  as  it  was  stylish  to 
call  it,  with  the  vista  of  Clay  and  Washington 
Streets  on  either  side,  and  the  flag  bedecked  El 
Dorado,  and  the  City  Hotel,  and  the  Bee  Hive,  and 
the  Parker  House  fronting  on  the  open  space  where 
cows  were  browsing. 

In  the  midst  of  that  seething,  pushing,  swarming, 
good  natured,  noisy  throng  which  was  the  population 
of  San  Francisco — some  five  thousand  of  them  resi- 
dents, and  the  rest  floating  battalions  of  that  army 
of  ten  thousand  or  so  who  had  poured  onto  the 
beach  from  every  port  in  the  world  in  the  first  few 
months  of  the  year — vanguard  of  the  thirty  thou- 
sand more  who  were  coming  tomorrow — with  Mat- 
thew's song  on  their  lips ! 

Tinkers,  sailors,  soldiers,  gentlemen,  apothecaries, 
cowboys,  thieves — lawyers,  merchants,  gamblers, 
fortune     tellers,     politicians,     preachers,     doctors, 

327 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

painters,  street  violinists,  convicts,  pawnbrokers, 
acrobats,  bar  tenders,  hack  drivers,  ticket  of  leave 
men,  silk  hatted  dandies,  criminals,  patent  medicine 
quacks,  ballad  writers,  piano  tuners,  flute  players, 
editors,  itinerant  harpists,  bootblacks,  phrenolo- 
gists   .    .    . 

Men  who  had  been  to  the  mines  and  returned  dis- 
couraged— men  who  had  never  gone  any  further 
than  the  city  of  myriad  opportunities — optimists — 
pessimists — millionaires — "bummers" — young  men, 
bearded,  and  arsenaled  with  weapons,  and  scarcely 
a  woman's  face  among  them    .      .    . 

Turks,  Germans,  Yankees,  Texans,  Kanakas, 
Chilenos,  French  Keskydees,  Arabs,  Chinamen,  Syd- 
ney Ducks,  Spaniards,  gold  chained  Dutchmen, 
Hindus,  Indians,  Greeks,  Mexicans,  Negroes,  Rus- 
sians— white,  yellow,  brown,  and  black,  and  all  their 
mixtures — the  scrapings  of  Melbourne  and  Valpa- 
raiso and  Hong  Kong  and  Liverpool,  New  York, 
Constantinople  and  Vladivostock — tramping  the 
streets  from  one  early  rising  gong  to  the  next,  in 
every  conceivable  costume,  and  with  the  languages 
of  four  continents  on  their  tongues ! 

A  glorious,  senseless,  fanatic,  garish,  dust  stained, 
gold    spattered,    epic    Babel — a    laughing,    toiling, 

328 


THE  SYDNEY  DUCKS 

swearing,  gambling,  carousing,  finger  at  the  trigger, 
gold  dust  on  the  table,  "long  nine''  cigar,  "forty-two 
caliber"  whiskey,  "dang  my  buttons,"  three  ring 
circus — "rubricating"  its  highly  flourished  signature 
over  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  pages  of  the 
world's  history 

".    .    .  ri  tu  di  nu,  ri  tu  di  nu, 
Ri  tu  di  nu  di  na  V 

And  then  the  miners  themselves,  red  shirted,  soft 
brimmed  hatted,  striped  trousered,  cowhide  booted 
men  just  in  from  the  camps — the  Git  up  and  Git, 
and  the  Hell's  Delight  and  the  Ground  Hog's  Glory, 
and  the  Petticoat  Slide,  the  Love  Letter,  the  Shirt 
Tail  Canon,  and  the  Chicken  Thief  Flat — men  who 
had  "coyoted"  and  "found  color" — men  who  had 
"prospected"  and  been  "frozen  out" 

Swaggering  about  with  feathers  in  their  hats  and 
silver  buckled  black  leather  belts  freighted  with 
bowie  knives  and  six  shooters,  buying  gaudy  Chi- 
nese scarves  to  drape  around  their  persons,  display- 
ing their  braided  locks  and  cherished  beards,  some 
of  them  tied  under  the  chin    .    .    . 

And  all  so  busy,  so  breathlessly,  perspiringly  busy! 
Too  busy  to  remember  yesterday,  too  busy  to  think 

329 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

of  tomorrow,  too  busy  to  stay  in  one  place  more 
than  three  seconds  at  a  time — rushing  furiously  on 
foot  from  one  end  of  town  to  the  other,  galloping 
wildly  on  horseback  through  the  turmoil  of  Mont- 
gomery Street,  to  find  the  pot  of  gold  at  the  end  of 
a  hundred  fleeting  rainbows    .    . 

San  Francisco — Forty-niner's  San  Francisco! 


"Slatting  topsails !"  Matthew  cried.  "Where  does 
all  this  sleep  when  the  day  is  done  ?" 

"Oh,  the  town  is  full  of  hotels  and  lodging 
houses,"  Mr.  Luscomb  told  him.  "You  can  get  a 
room  in  a  better  class  hotel  for  anywhere  from 
twenty-five  to  a  hundred  dollars  a  week — even  two 
hundred  and  fifty  at  Ward's  I" 

"I  shall  sleep  aboard  the  Golden  Fleece." 

"In  the  lodging  houses  you  will  find  a  bunk  for 
fifteen  dollars  or  so  a  week " 

The  City  Hotel  and  the  Parker  House,  the  Ohio, 
the  Fremont,  the  Illinois,  the  Broadway,  the  Bay 
Hotel,  the  Colonnade  Hotel,  the  Albion  for  the 
English,  the  Keeskydee  Lafayette  House    .    .    . 

And  the  lodging  houses,  in  tents  and  shacks,  a 
place  on  the  floor,  or  in  a  cot,  or  in  a  wooden  bunk, 

330 


THE  SYDNEY  DUCKS 

tier  on  tier,  ten  to  fifty  in  a  room,  shared  with  fleas 
and  vermin    .    .    . 

"And  where  do  they  eat — or  are  they  all  too  busy 
to  eat?" 

"We  eat  at  Ward's,  or  at  Delmonico's,  and  at  the 
Alhambra  and  Tortoni's — those  are  the  better  class 
places — or  at  the  Chinese  joints,  King  Sung's  and 
Whang  Ton's,  and  Tong  Ling's — or  a  slice  of  boiled 
beef,  and  some  bread  and  coffee,  and  dumpling  for 
a  dollar  in  a  cheap  eating  house " 

Mr.  Luscomb  might  have  gone  on  to  tell  Matthew 
of  an  even  less  savory  type  of  resort,  the  dives  and 
saloons  of  Sydney  Town,  out  at  the  foot  of  Tele- 
graph Hill  at  the  end  of  Kearney  and  Montgomery 
Streets. 

Sydney  Town,  the  gathering  place  of  the  Eng- 
lish speaking  riff  raff  of  the  city,  remnants  of 
the  old  "Regiment  of  New  York  Volunteers,"  scum 
from  the  abandoned  ships,  "bummers"  back  from 
the  mines,  and  the  roughs  and  hoodlums  from  the 
Australian  penal  settlements. 

The  Sydney  Ducks,  depraved  and  dissipated 
young  sports,  affecting  the  utmost  elegances  of  dia- 
mond studded  shirts  and  pomaded  hair — the  dreaded 
"Hounds"  of  that  first  lawless  winter,  with  their 

331 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

brass  banded,  bannered  Sunday  parades,  their 
unmolested  "headquarters"  in  the  Tammany  Hall 
tent  on  Kearney  Street,  near  the  City  Hotel, 
from  which  they  sallied  out  at  night  armed  with 
pistols  and  clubs  to  terrorize  the  town  and  raid 
the  foreign  settlements,  and  their  arrogantly 
enforced  conceit  that  the  public  must  support 
them. 

".    .    .  charge  it  to  the  Hounds,  and  dry  up !" 

"I  do  not  pay,  dang  my  buttons !  I  am  a  Captain 
of  the  Hounds    .     .    ." 

A  pillaging  brotherhood  of  cutthroats  and  rois- 
terers, now  suddenly  blossomed  forth  in  regimental 
array  as  the  San  Francisco  Society  of  Regulators — 
with  an  initiation  fee  of  ten  dollars  and  "Lieut- 
enant" Samuel  Roberts  as  "Chief  Rioter  and  Master 
of  the  Military,"  and  all  the  dignity  of  a  self  con- 
stituted police  force — whose  only  motive  was  the 
periodic  annihilation  of  the  neighboring  Chileno 
quarter ! 

Gathered  together  in  such  dives  as  the  Boar's 
Head  and  the  Tarn  O'Shanter,  and  the  infamous 
Magpie,  where  at  that  moment  Panama  Joe  and  a 
crowd  of  his  ship-mates  from  the  Golden  Fleece 
were  working  themselves  up  into  an  alcoholic  fury, 

332 


THE  SYDNEY  DUCKS 

before  an  eagerly  sympathetic  audience,  over  an 
entirely  imaginary  account  of  their  sufferings  dur- 
ing the  voyage. 

".  .  .  starved  to  death  we  were !"  Panama  Joe 
proclaimed,  pounding  his  robust  chest.  "Nothing 
to  eat  for  days  but  mouldy  biscuit " 

"And  salt  horse  full  of  worms !" 

"And  knocked  about  like  staggering  ninepins — 
five  of  us  murdered  in  told  blood  by  the  Mate  and 
the  Captain " 

"Heaved  their  bodies  over  the  side  like  rats,  they 
did,  and  never  a  prayer  for  their  souls!"  someone 
submitted  tearfully. 

".  .  .  eight  men  lost  from  the  main  topsailyard 
in  a  howling  gale  that  would  blow  the  scales  off  a 
fish — drove  us  aloft  with  pistols " 

"There  never  was  such  a  floating  muck  hole  as  the 
Golden  Fleece !" 

"No,  nor  ever  such  a  blistering,  whiskey  sweat- 
ing, black  livered,  iron  gutted,  galloping  son  of  a 
butcher's  meat  axe  as  her  Old  Man — may  the  angels 
warp  his  soul  out  into  everlasting  rest !" 

"Dang  my  buttons!"  said  Sydney  Town,  and 
ordered  more  liquor  for  that  purpose. 

"Yes — and  her  cabin's  all  gold  and  ivory," 
333 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Panama  Joe  insinuated.  "Gold  and  ivory,  and 
diamond  door  knobs  as  big  as  your  fist    .    .    ." 

Suffering  Susanna!  Gold  and  ivory,  and  dia- 
monds! Sydney  Town  was  just  drunk  enough  to 
accept  these  marvels,  and  just  sober  enough  to  flame 
into  righteous  anger  at  the  thought  of  this  murder- 
ing ruffian  of  a  Captain  occupying  such  a  cabin. 

"Burn  his  ship — hang  the  glittering  orphan  to  his 
own  mainyard !" 

"Call  out  the  Hounds  tonight " 

".    .    .  fall  in,  Regulators!" 

"Send  for  the  Chief  Rioter  .  .  ." 

Back  in  his  corner  where  he  sat,  alert  and  per- 
fectly sober,  Panama  Joe  smiled  to  himself  and 
thought  of  the  blue  porcelain  elephant.  The  fourth 
time  stolen  would  be  the  last    .    .    . 

5 

Matthew  dined  with  Mr.  Luscomb  at  the  fashion- 
able Delmonico's,  in  the  crowded  upstairs  room 
above  the  market,  with  its  ceiling  and  walls  of  white 
muslin  and  its  oil  cloth  floor,  picking  his  dishes 
from  among  the  dollar  soups  and  the  dollar  and  a 
half  fish  and  roasts,  avoiding  the  two  dollar 
omelette,  and  ending  with  seventy-five  cent  pie — 

334 


THE  SYDNEY  DUCKS 

all  of  it  washed  down  with  "champagne"  at  two 
dollars  and  a  half  a  pint ! 

"Give  the  steward  four  bits,"  Mr.  Luscomb 
advised.     "That  is  the  minimum  tip." 

"What  is  to  do  now?"  Matthew  asked.  "I  shall 
have  to  set  about  securing  a  new  crew,  you 
know    .     .     ." 

"How  do  we  get  out  of  this  here,  now,  metro- 
polis?" Mr.  Stimson  had  enquired  that  afternoon. 
"We've  got  nothing  but  the  ship's  cat  to  man  the 
halliards." 

"We'll  scrape  the  mountains  clean,  old  girl,  we'll 
drain  the  old  jail  dry!"  Matthew  had  smiled. 
"We'll  sail  from  California,  Susanna,  don't  you 
cry. 

"Sweet  sailor's  life !"  Mr.  Stimson  sighed.  "Per- 
haps you  can  write  a  new  song,  Captain  Parsons, 
and  get  them  started  going  East  again.  Better 
stand  well  out  from  shore,  Sir,  or  you'll  be  catching 
this,  now,  gold  fever  and  buying  yourself  a  red 
shirt    .    .    ." 

"There  will  be  time  enough  for  a  crew,"  Mr. 
Luscomb  told  Matthew.  "The  less  time  they  have 
to  think  it  over  the  better.    What  would  you  admire 

to  do?" 

335 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"What  is  there  ?"  Matthew  laughed.  "How  does 
this  perspiring  community  amuse  itself?" 

"Well,  we  go  to  toreos,  bull  baits  that  is,  at  the 
Mission  on  Sunday  afternoons,  and  the  Virginia 
Minstrels  have  been  here.  Mr.  Rowe  is  talking  of 
opening  a  circus,  I  am  told.  You  have  just  missed 
Mr.  Massett's  concert  in  the  school  house  a  little 
while  ago. 

"What  was  that?" 

"It  was  a  very  fine  concert,  with  recitations  and 
mimicry,  and  the  only  piano  in  town  was  moved 
across  the  Plaza  from  the  Custom  House  for  it. 
The  charge  for  admission  was  three  dollars  and  I 
think  he  took  in  five  hundred,  less  sixteen  for  mov- 
ing the  piano " 


6 


For  lack  of  anything  else  to  do  they  finally  drifted 
into  the  El  Dorado  tent  on  the  Plaza,  all  ablaze 
with  lamps  and  streamers. 

"This  is  the  largest  of  the  gambling  saloons," 
Mr.  Luscomb  said.  "Those  others,  the  Belta 
Union,  and  the  Rendezvous,  and  the  Tontine  on 

Montgomery  Street,  are  not  so  fine " 

336 


THE  SYDNEY  DUCKS 

And  very  fine  it  was,  with  its  plate  glass  mirrors, 
and  its  statuary,  and  its  chandeliers,  and  its  tremen- 
dous oil  paintings — all  brought  from  the  East 
around  the  Horn  or  across  the  Isthmus — the  gallery 
for  the  orchestra  at  one  end,  and  the  glittering  bar 
along  one  whole  side. 

A  bar  with  pyramids  of  crystal,  and  a  mechani- 
cal device  representing  dogs  pursuing  a  deer,  and 
emitting  musical  sounds  bearing  a  general  resem- 
blance to  the  last  measure  but  one  of  Yankee 
Doodle,  and  bartenders  in  white  shaking  drinks  for 
the  world  as  though  they  had  been  at  the  Astor 
House. 

"Here's  at  you — here's  fun!" 

"Here's  hoping  these  few  lines  will  find  you 
enjoying  the  same  blessing,  Sir " 

"I  pledge  you,  partner — Here's  all  the  hair  off 
your  head    .     .     ." 

And  the  same  swarming,  many  hued,  incoherently 
tongued  throng  of  the  streets  crowding  around  the 
eight  gaming  tables,  tossing  out  coins  of  every 
known  currency,  throwing  down  its  bags  of  gold 
dust  on  the  favorite  numbers,  while  the  band 
blared,  and  the  chandeliers  shimmered  in  the  haze  of 
cigar  smoke,  and  the  mechanical  dogs  chased  the 
22  337 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

patriotic  deer,  and  the  glasses  clinked  endlessly  on 
the  bar. 

"Make  your  bets,  gentlemen — make  your 
bets    .    .     » 

Whirr— clik— clik— clik— 

".     .     .  the  game  is  made !" 

Over  and  over  again  while  fortunes  changed 
hands,  and  time  passed,  which  was  after  all  the 
important  thing. 

"The  usual  amount  staked  is  anywhere  from  two 
bits  to  five  dollars,"  Mr.  Luscomb  explained.  "But 
I  have  seen  as  much  as  twenty  thousand  dollars 
wagered  on  the  turn  of  one  card !" 

Faro,  Keeno,  Mexican  and  French  monte,  rouge 
et  noir,  rondo,  trente  et  quarante,  lansquenet — dealt 
out  of  the  faro  "sardine  box" — vingt  et  un,  paire 
ou  non — the  wheel  games,  tiger,  elephant,  roulette — 
and  chuck  a  luck,  and  sweat  cloths  for  the  dice 
enthusiasts. 

7 

And  then  all  of  a  sudden  a  man  came  in  to  the 
El  Dorado,  looked  eagerly  about  him  for  a  moment, 
and  whispered  to  one  or  two  others  before  going  out 
again.     He  was  followed  a  few  minutes  later  by 

338 


THE  SYDNEY  DUCKS 

another,  who  elbowed  his  way  in  and  out  of  the 
throng,  stopping  to  speak  to  four  or  five  more  who 
immediately  pocketed  their  gold  dust  and  left  the 
tent. 

"Something  is  doing,"  Mr.  Luscomb  ventured. 

From  Kearney  Street,  audible  even  in  the  midst 
of  the  hubbub  in  the  gambling  saloon,  arose  a  tumult 
of  voices,  songs  and  oratory  and  cheers,  the  rumble 
of  a  gathering  crowd.  Down  Montgomery  Street 
and  Kearney  Street  from  the  other  direction — from 
Sydney  Town — came  the  answering  roar  of  an 
approaching  mob,  and  the  flare  of  swinging- 
lanterns. 

1 There  is  surely  something  brewing,"  Mr.  Lus- 
comb repeated.     "Listen " 

*  'Left — right — left — right — 
Ri  tu  di  nu,  ri  tu  di  nu, 
Ri  tu  di  nu  di  na    .    .    ." 

A  moment  later  a  man  came  running  through  the 
entrance,  and  three  steps  at  a  time  up  into  the 
orchestra  gallery  where  he  silenced  the  startled 
musicians  and  leaned  far  out  over  the  railing. 

"Dry  up  down  there!"  he  cried  breathlessly. 
"Dry  up — stop  that  infernal  music  box,  dang  your 

buttons !    The  Sydney  Ducks  are  loose " 

339 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

No  one  paid  any  attention  to  him  at  first,  but 
here  and  there  a  man  finally  caught  sight  of  his 
excited  gestures  and  called  to  his  companions  to 
listen. 

"Dry  up — dry  up — hear  what  he  has  to  say  I" 

"Has  gold  been  found  in  the  Farallones    .    .    ." 

".  .  .  up  there  in  the  gallery — hold  the  game 
— is  it  a  fire?" 

"The  Sydney  Ducks  are  loose!"  the  man  was 
shouting.  "All  Sydney  Town  is  out — the  Hounds 
are  coming — all  the  Regulators  are  on  the  march 
again — they  are  gathering  at  the  Tammany  tent, 
don't  you  hear  them!" 

" Company,  halt!    Regulators — attention    .    .    ." 

"Coyote  yourselves  in  and  swallow  your  pay  dirt, 
all  hell's  fireworks  are  popping!"  the  man  con- 
cluded. 

"What  is  doing — "  they  all  crowded  around  him 
on  the  floor  when  he  had  come  down  from  the 
gallery. 

"Wasistlos    .    .    ." 

".    .    .  shen  mo  dung  hsi?" 

"Wat  is  er — wat  is  erf"  the  Dutchmen  growled. 

"What  deviltry  are  the  Hounds  up  to  now — " 

"De  que  se  trata — que  tiene  el  hombre?" 
340 


THE  SYDNEY  DUCKS 

"Qu'est  ce  qu  'il  ditf     Qu'est  ce  qu  'il  dit " 

from  the  Keskydees. 

".  .  .  is  it  the  Chilenos  they  are  after  again,  or 
the  Moors  this  time?" 

"Chilenos  and  Moors  be  danged!"  the  man  told 
them.     "From  what  I  hear  it  is  a  ship." 

"A  ship!" 

"Un  navire " 

"Yes,  they  propose  to  burn  her  and  hang  her 
Captain  from  his  own  mainyard — the  news  is  all 
over  town — it  is  said  he  was  a  monster  of  cruelty 
on  the  voyage,  and  now  that  preserver  of  law  and 
justice,  the  San  Francisco  Society  of  Regulators 
— dang  their  souls — will  avenge  the  wrongs  of  the 
crew !" 

"Qu'est  ce  qu  'il  dit — qu'est  ce  qu  'il  dit " 

"What  ship  is  it?" 

"They  call  her  the  Golden  Fleece    .    .    ." 

The  Golden  Fleece — the  words  rang  suddenly  in 
Matthew's  ears  like  a  pistol  shot. 

"Blood  and  nouns!"  he  cried  to  Mr.  Luscomb, 
pushing  him  towards  the  exit.  "Did  you  hear? 
The  Golden  Fleece!  They  propose  to  burn  her — my 
ship!" 

As  for  their  plans  concerning  his  own  person, 
341 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Matthew  did  not  seem  to  be  giving  a  thought  to 
them  as  he  rushed  down  the  length  of  Commercial 
Street  towards  Long  Wharf,  with  Mr.  Luscomb 
close  at  his  heels. 

"You'll  not  mind  if  I  come  with  you/'  the  latter 
panted  cheerfuly.  "I  calculate  I'm  partly  respon- 
sible for  her  in  this  port !"  and  Matthew  sent  him  a 
flashing  smile. 

"That's  a  spirited  bucko — we'll  fry  the  galloping 
skunks  in  their  own  sweat !" 

Burn  his  ship,  would  they — not  while  he  was 
alive  to  see  it  done    .    .    . 


342 


CHAPTER    X 
EL  DORADO 

1 

'T'HE  golden  haired  girl  opened  her  eyes  slowly 
**•  -  and  stared  stupidly  in  front  of  her.  She  was  still 
in  the  boat,  she  could  feel  its  swinging  motion — but 
what  had  happened  to  the  sky  ?  It  must  be  daylight, 
but  why  did  the  sky,  an  incomprehensibly  white  sky, 
seem  to  be  so  near  suddenly — surely,  if  she  were  to 

put  out  her  hand,  she  could  touch  it 

And  then  she  realized  that  she  was  lying  in  a 
bunk,  and  that  the  incomprehensibly  white  sky  was 
the  white  painted  ceiling  of  a  cabin.  She  was  still 
pondering  carefully  over  this  fact  when  a  booming 
voice  quite  close  to  her  came  to  startle  her  half 
awakened  senses. 

"So,  better  you  feel  now,  yes?"  said  the  voice 
with  a  chuckle,  and  she  turned  her  head  to  see  the 
ponderous  mass  of  an  enormously  fat  little  man, 
who  was  smiling  down  at  her. 

343 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Please,  Sir,"  she  asked  him,  "what  has  become 
of  us?    Where  is  my  brother?" 

"Heisa!"  exclaimed  the  other.  "Ina  boat  I  bick 
you  up,  yes.  Across  the  Bacific  you  would  go  with- 
out oars — het  is  niet  mogelijk!" 

"Will  you  not  tell  me  of  my  brother,  Sir?" 
she  begged.  "It  was  his  fevered  mind  sent  us  on 
this  folly " 

"There,  do  not  fear.  The  jongen  is  near.  In  the 
other  cabin  my  wife  she  is  nursing  him,  yes.  Much 
he  brattles  of  rivers,  but  well  we  will  make  him, 
yes." 

"Oh,  then  we  are  saved,  Sir !  I  had  not  thought 
it  possible.    Where — where  are  we  now  ?" 

"This  is  the  ship  Oost  Indie,  Mejuffrouw,  and  I 
am  her  Kapitein,  yes,  Jan  Pieterszoon  van  den 
Bosch,  at  your  service,  and  Mevrouw  van  den  Bosch 
also — and  to  San  Francisco  we  go." 

"Indeed,  Sir.  Then  fortune  is  minded  to  smile 
upon  us  for  a  spell  after  her  absence !" 

"Ya — and  now  berhaps  it  is  better  you  sleep 
again,  yes?" 

"Yes,  Sir,  perhaps  so,"  she  smiled  at  him.  "If 
you  will  but  say  to  my  brother  that  we  are  on  the 
river,  and  so  humor  him,  he  will  rest  quietly." 

344 


EL  DORADO 

"Heusch,  the  river  you  say?" 
"Yes,    Sir.      The   river   that   flows   straight   to 
California." 

"So  ?    I  tell  Mevrouw  van  den  Bosch,  yes    .    .    ." 


They  talked  endlessly  and  wonderingly  about  it 
all  later — Jan  Pieterszoon  and  that  excellent,  ample 
bosomed  lady,  Mevrouw  van  den  Bosch,  his  wife — 
when  Enoch  was  able  to  come  on  deck  and  sit 
through  the  long  Pacific  afternoons  under  the 
awning  on  the  quarterdeck,  with  his  sister  nestling 
contentedly  at  his  feet. 

"Heusch!  When  I  spy  the  boat  I  think  I  am 
dreaming !"  the  Dutchman  would  say  over  and  over 
again.  "The  course  we  change  to  see  better,  and 
then  we  find  the  jongen,  there,  asleep  in  the  bottom, 
and  you,  Mejuffrouw,  singing  of  California  and  Su- 
sanna !    A  strange  sight,  yes,  on  the  Bacific  Ocean !" 

"We  must  have  been  for  two  nights  and  a  day 
in  the  boat.  I  do  not  recall  the  second  night  at  all, 
or  that  I  was  singing." 

"And  I  do  not  recall  being  in  the  boat  ever!" 
laughed  Enoch.  It  was  extraordinary  how  he  had 
rallied  under  Mevrouw  van  den  Bosch's  motherly 

345 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

care — it  seemed  as  though  it  must  have  been  written 
somewhere  that  he  should  not  die  until  he  had  seen 
the  gold  rivers,  in  spite  of  every  hardship    .    .    . 

"I  calculate  it  was  Providence  sent  you  to  us, 
Sir,"  his  sister  was  saying.  "Without  you  we  were 
in  a  desperate  plight." 

"Heisa!"  Jan  laughed.  "The  wind  it  was,  send- 
ing us  out  of  the  course.  Without  the  wind  too  far 
out  we  would  have  been  to  see  you." 

"It  was  Providence  then  sent  the  wind  I" 

"Berhaps  you  are  right,  Mejuffrouw.  In 
Amsterdam  I  was,  to  grow  old  in  beace,  and  then  of 
the  gold  I  hear,  and  of  much  sailing  to  be  done  once 
more,  and  something  says  to  me  Jan  Pieterszoon,  to 
California  you  must  go.  So  I  go.  Berhaps  it  was 
Brovidence,  sending  me  to  find  you.  Heisa,  it  was 
well  arranged!" 

"I  am  convinced  of  it,  Sir." 

"Berhaps  like  the  Flying  Dutchman  I  am,  never 
to  stay  in  one  blace.  And  you,  from  New  York 
you  come,  by  Banama.  To  New  York  I  would  go 
too,  to  see  a  friend." 

"Indeed,  Sir." 

"Ya — it  is  a  big  blace,  New  York,  brobably  you 
do  not  know,  but  berhaps  you  hear  the  name." 

346 


EL  DORADO 

"Who  is  it,  Sir?" 

"Mijnheer  Barsons." 

"Parsons!    Captain  Parsons?" 

"Ya — you  have  heard,  berhaps  you  know?  Cap- 
tain Gamaliel  Barsons — a  very  dwaase  jongen, 
always  he  make  me  berspire,  but  well  we  love  him  in 
the  old  days." 

"No,  Sir — I — I  had  Captain  Matthew  Parsons 
in  mind  when  I  spoke." 

"Ho!  But  that  is  the  son,  yes.  I  have  never 
seen,  but  from  Ah  Fung  in  China  a  letter  I  receive 
before  he  dies,  and  the  son  had  come  to  visit 
him " 

"Yes,  in  the  Mandarin — because  he  was  spoiled 
for  a  mate,"  she  whispered,  and  then  looked  quickly 
at  Enoch,  but  he  was  busy  playing  picquet  with  the 
Captain's  wife  and  had  not  heard.  So  she  turned 
blushingly  to  Jan  Pieterszoon  again,  and  he 
shook  a  fat  forefinger  at  her  and  smiled  com- 
prehendingly. 

"So,  the  son  you  know,  Mejuffrouw,"  he  mur- 
mured. "And  I,  the  father  I  have  known  well  in 
other  days.  I  forget  that  old  I  grow.  Much  alike 
they  must  be.     We  will  speak  of  him  again,  yes, 

some  other  time  berhaps " 

347 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"I  would  admire  to  hear  you  tell  of — of  your 
friend,  Sir,"  she  said. 

"Ho  ho !"  he  chuckled,  and  reached  out  a  fatherly 
hand  to  caress  her  hair.  "To  me  you  will  tell  what 
you  have  not  told  the  brother,  yes?" 

"It  may  be  in  speaking  of  the  father,  things  will 
slip  out  concerning  the  son,  Sir!" 

"Ya,  natuurlijk,  §o  it  is  in  conversation!  And  I 
will  tell  you  things  to  make  you  laugh,  you  will  see. 
I  do  not  think  enough  you  laugh,  Mejuffrouw,  and 
yet  so  young  and  so  bretty  you  are !" 

"But,  Sir,  I  remember  that  I  laughed  when  I 
found  the  oars  were  gone  from  the  boat !"  she  told 
him. 

"My  child!"  he  exclaimed,  and  blinked  at  her 
solemnly  for  a  while. 

3 

She  came  to  him  that  same  evening  on  the 
quarterdeck,  under  the  glittering  Pacific  stars,  while 
Jan  was  smoking  his  last  cheroot,  and  stood  at  his 
elbow  by  the  rail  watching  the  pale  green  shimmer  of 
phosphorescence  along  the  side. 

"I  wonder  how  it  is  to  be  a  Captain's  wife,"  she 
said  at  last,  and  Jan  chuckled  noisily  in  the  darkness. 

348 


EL  DORADO 

"He  is  very  handsome,  yes?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  Sir,  he  is  not  ill  favored,"  she  replied  diffi- 
dently. She  had  never  spoken  of  Matthew  to  anyone 
else  before. 

"Not  ill  favored!"  the  Dutchman  laughed. 
"Heisa,  the  father,  an  Adonis  he  was,  yes.  Always 
with  the  ladies  an  impression  he  made." 

"With  the  ladies?" 

"Ya,  natuurlijk!  There  are  smiles  and  admiring 
looks  to  be  found  in  the  Orient,  Mejuffrouw,  as  well 
as  in  New  York.  Blind  he  did  not  bretend  to  be 
when  ashore  he  went!" 

"You  said  they  would  be  alike,  the  father  and 
son " 

"Heisa!  That  is  nothing.  In  a  garden  one  smells 
the  flowers,  before  bicking  the  finest  one !" 

"Indeed,  Sir " 

"Ho!  You  should  have  seen  the  father  when  a 
young  man,  so  handsome  he  was,  in  the  early  days 
in  China." 

"I  calculate  his  son  is  fitted  to  hold  his  own,  Sir, 
in  such  matters,"  she  remarked.  "And  for  bravery 
I  do  not  reckon  there  is  another  can  hold  a  taper  to 
him." 

"Ho !  For  bravery  it  is  in  the  blood,  and  for  hot 
349 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

headed  folly  too.  The  father  was  a  pangamnk  to 
make  us  berspire  always  for  his  safety.  Only 
speeches  he  could  not  make,  heisa!" 

"The  son  is  slow  in  starting,  Sir,  but  he  warms 
very  handsomely  to  his  subject !" 

"So,  he  has  spoken,  yes  ?" 

"Yes,  Sir.  You  could  not  call  him  tongue 
tied " 

"The  father's  son  will  be  a  fearless,  great  hearted, 
straight  sailing  jongen,  Mejuffrouw.  He  could  not 
be  otherwise.    You  have  answered  berhaps?" 

She  told  him  then  how  matters  stood — of  her 
meeting  with  Matthew  that  first  time  on  the  Cygnet, 
and  again  at  the  Garden,  and  of  Enoch  and  his  great 
desire  to  see  the  gold  rivers  before  he  died,  and  of 
her  own  choice  between  the  two  of  them. 

"My  child!"  Jan  Pieterszoon  sighed.  "My 
child  .  .  ."  and  sought  for  something  with  which 
to  make  her  laugh  for  a  little  if  possible. 

So  he  spoke  to  her  for  a  long  time  of  the  first 
coming  of  Gamaliel  to  China,  a  lively  spirited  adven- 
turer in  his  high  white  collar  and  black  stock,  and 
of  his  doings  in  Japan,  which  made  her  laugh  very 
merrily  indeed,  and  of  that  affair  in  the  Paran- 
gambalang  River. 

350 


EL  DORADO 

".  .  .  alone  in  a  prau,  yes,  singing  pantun  before 
the  stranded  junk  in  the  night.  Heisa,  such  folly! 
And  all  for  that  borcelain  elephant  of  Ah  Fung. 
But  he  brings  it  back,  yes.  Always  he  succeed  and 
laugh  at  us  because  we  berspire." 

"The  son  has  the  elephant  now  aboard  his  ship,  so 
I  have  heard." 

"Ho!  That  elephant.  Something  strange  about 
it  there  is,  yes.  Brophecies,  good  and  bad.  A  story  I 
hear,  yes,  before  I  leave  Malaya,  that  on  the  Felicity 
Belle  sailed  one  who  had  seen  curious  things." 

"Indeed,  Sir." 

"Ya,  I  am  not  surprised  if  there  is  danger." 

"Danger,  Sir?    To— to  him?" 

"Berhaps,  Mejuffrouw,  if  the  elephant  he  has." 

"What  danger  could  there  be  from  a  china 
elephant  ?" 

"There,  do  not  fret.  Danger  there  is  always  for 
a  sailor.  That  you  must  know,  if  a  Captain's  wife 
you  will  be." 

"But  from  an  elephant,  Sir!  What  manner  of 
danger?" 

"Some  day  I  think  there  will  come  one  seeking 
the  elephant,  and  on  that  day  there  will  be  danger 
for  him." 

351 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"It  were  better  then  to  throw  away  the  elephant, 
surely !" 

"Ya,  it  would  be  better.  Berhaps  that  is  what 
the  Chinaman  had  in  mind.  But  the  better  things 
we  seldom  do,  and  the  gajah  was  a  gift.  The 
father's  son  will  not  throw  the  gift  away  because  of 
danger  to  himself,  that  is  very  sure  !" 

"No,  I  calculate  not.  But  if  there  were  danger 
to  another  from  it,  then  perhaps  he  would  do  so." 

11 Y a,  berhaps,  if  in  time  he  knows." 

"Or  another  could  throw  it  away,  and  so  avoid 
the  danger!" 

"I  do  not  know — berhaps  fate  will  not  allow, 
if  it  is  written  that  the  choice  of  throwing  away  or 
keeping  he  must  make  himself !" 

"Do  you  believe  in  fate,  Sir?" 

"Do  you  not  believe  in  Brovidence!  And  now 
below  we  go,  yes  ?  Tomorrow  berhaps  to  San  Fran- 
cisco we  come.  To  the  gold  rivers  you  will  go  with 
the  jongen?" 

"It  is  his  wish,  Sir.  I  calculate  that  is  why  we 
are  come  all  this  long  way.  I — I  do  not  reckon  we 
— we  will  stay  there  long." 

"My  child!"  Jan  Pieterszoon  murmured.  "I 
understand.    To  Banama  I  go  for  one  trip.    Berhaps 

352 


EL  DORADO 

when  I  come  back  to  San  Francisco  you  have 
returned,  yes.  Then  with  us  to  New  York  you  will 
go — with  Mevrouw  van  den  Bosch  and  Jan  Pieter- 
szoon,  to  see  Mijnheer  Barsons,  and  berhaps  a  wed- 
ding we  will  have." 

"Perhaps  fate  will  not  allow,  Sir,  if  it  is  written 
otherwise !" 

"Ho !  We  shall  see.  Welcome  to  the  Oost  Indie 
you  will  be  always,  Mejuffrouw." 

"I  do  not  know  how  to  repay  your  kindness,  Sir." 

"A  bleasure  it  will  be  for  an  old  Flying  Dutchman 
to  have  you  at  his  side  on  the  voyage,  so  young  and 
so  bretty,  and  so  brave,  my  child    .    .    ." 

4 

They  joined  a  party — a  minister  and  his  wife, 
and  some  of  Enoch's  heroes — bound  for  the  dig- 
gings, almost  at  once  after  landing  in  San  Francisco, 
and  travelled  up  to  Sacramento  in  a  river  boat.  A 
strange  exaltation  seemed  to  possess  Enoch,  his  face 
was  transfigured  and  he  sat  almost  breathlessly 
unmindful  of  what  passed  around  him,  his  gaze 
striving  ahead  to  the  goal  of  his  untried  journey. 

For  the  sister  watching  over  him  so  steadfastly 
the  signs  of  the  finishing  race  were  unmistakable. 
«  353 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

It  was  an  unyielding  will  voyaging  there  beside  her, 
a  cherished  purpose,  a  shining  spirit  holding  back 
the  wearied  body  that  would  already  have  sought  its 
rest. 

And  as  she  had  said  to  Jan  Pieterszoon,  they  did 
not  stay  long  among  the  gold  rivers. 

Enoch  himself  only  stayed  three  days.  Three 
days  along  the  trails  over  the  hills,  and  down  into 
the  steep  ravines  of  river  beds  where  brightshirted 
men  were  feverishly  digging,  and  sifting  and  stir- 
ring— in  "basket,  bird  cage  and  what  not" — and  in 
and  out  of  bustling,  dusty,  crowded  little  camps 
perched  on  the  open  flats. 

"El  Dorado,  Goldie  I"  he  would  say  to  her.  "The 
gold  rivers  of  El  Dorado.  I  have  seen  them  at 
last!" 

"Yes,  Enoch    .    .    ." 

Once  he  went  wading  in  himself  and  washed  out 
a  little  pinch  of  the  precious  dust  for  her. 

"It  will  make  a  brooch,"  he  smiled.  "An  heir- 
loom perhaps,  Goldie,  from — from  Uncle  Enoch!" 
and  then  he  laughed  like  a  schoolboy  at  her  blushing 
discomfiture. 

That  was  perhaps  their  happiest  time  together 
since  the  far  off  days  in  Cambridge. 

354 


EL  DORADO 

And  then  on  the  third  evening,  by  a  cabin  window 
on  a  hillside  looking  out  across  a  little  stream 
towards  the  West,  she  sat  at  his  bedside  while  he 
turned  his  thoughts  reluctantly,  and  yet  quite  hap- 
pily, to  that  other  untried  journey  which  he  must 
take  now,  fondling  the  recollection  of  his  adventure 
much  as  a  little  boy  puts  away  his  toys  at  the  end 
of  a  day  of  play. 

"I  am  glad  of  having  seen  the  rivers,  Goldie." 

"Yes,  Enoch.    It- — it  was  well  to  come." 

"You  must  go  back  to  the  Captain  with  the  mini- 
ster's wife  when  she  returns  to  Sacramento.  You 
have  been  such  a  good  sister  through  it  all." 

"Hush,  Enoch    .    .    ." 

"I  would  much  admire  to  hear  you  sing  once  more, 
my  dear !"  he  said  after  a  while,  and  he  must  have 
died  with  the  echoes  of  her  golden  voice  ringing 
softly  through  the  dusk. 

They  buried  him  on  the  hillside,  and  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  day  the  Golden  Fleece  cast  anchor  in  the 
Bay  she  returned  to  San  Francisco. 


It  was  an  ill  chosen  moment  for  a  girl  in  which 
to  arrive  alone  on  the  shores  of  Yerba  Buena  Cove ! 

355 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

When  they  had  passed  through  the  first  time  she 
had  noticed  the  unending  turmoil  of  the  place,  and 
accustomed  herself  to  the  swarming  crowds,  all  good 
natured  and  courteous  enough.  But  on  this  evening 
there  was  the  sense  of  something  unusual  in  the  air 
— there  was  a  great  bell  clanging  disturbingly,  and 
the  sound  of  many  tramping  feet,  a  great  confusion 
of  cries,  and  cheers  and  imprecations,  a  twinkling 
everywhere  of  hurried  lanterns  in  the  midst  of 
which  countless  shadowy  figures  went  ceaselessly  to 
and  fro. 

"Mercy!"  she  exclaimed.  "There  is  a  great  todo, 
and  no  mistake." 

She  had  meant  to  seek  out  the  lodging  house 
where  they  had  stayed  before,  but  the  way  across 
the  town  seemed  to  be  barred  in  every  direction  by 
marching  columns,  and  she  did  not  dare  to  venture 
out  among  the  labyrinths  of  the  surrounding  sand 
hills  in  the  dark.  She  turned,  instead,  and  went 
down  across  Montgomery  Street  to  the  beach,  where 
she  found  a  place  to  rest  for  a  while  in  the  shadow 
of  a  boat. 

Her  thoughts  went  back  to  that  other  beach  in 
Panama,  and  to  Enoch  clambering  into  the  boat 
that  had  taken  them  at  last  to  Captain  van  den 

356 


EL  DORADO 

Bosch,  and  down  through  all  the  happenings  of  these 
last  days  until  they  had  reached  the  hillside  beyond 
Sacramento,  and  all  at  once  she  felt  very  lonely,  and 
very  frightened.  Enoch  had  left  her,  and  the  kind- 
hearted  Captain  was  gone  on  his  trip  to  the  Isthmus, 
and  what  could  she  find  to  do  here  until  his  return  ? 
She  was  determined  not  to  touch  the  gold  dust  Enoch 
had  given  her.  That  she  would  keep  till  the  last, 
wrapped  in  the  crumpled  bit  of  paper  containing 
Matthew's  song. 

Perhaps  she  would  sing — always  sing — the  Night- 
ingale of  Panama 

And  Matthew,  on  what  sea  was  he  sailing,  through 
what  stormy  perils,  to  what  distant  shore  ? 

Over  there,  a  little  way  down  the  beach,  a  great 
ship  lay  at  a  wharf,  such  a  ship  as  Matthew  might 
have  sailed  in,  with  graceful  hull  and  towering  masts 
sharply  outlined  against  the  glow  of  light  from  the 
dock  onto  which  the  crowds  were  pouring. 

"I  calculate  it  is  either  a  celebration/'  she  thought, 
"or  else  a  great  churning  up  of  trouble  for  those 
on  board !" 

And  then  suddenly  she  became  aware  of  two  men, 
sailors  from  their  appearance,  running  along  the 
beach  towards  the  small  boats.     Something  furtive 

357 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

in  their  manner,  an  ominous  note  in  the  continuous 
roar  arising  from  the  wharf,  caused  her  to  crouch 
more  closely  in  the  protecting  shadow  and  watch 
their  movements  with  breathless  interest. 

They  came  straight  for  the  boat  next  to  hers,  the 
first  one  in  the  row  pulled  up  on  the  beach,  and  be- 
gan to  push  it  down  to  the  water.  They  seemed  to 
be  in  a  great  hurry,  and  intent  on  the  disturbance 
on  the  dock  nearby. 

"Like  stealing  shirts  from  a  Dutchman,"  she 
heard  one  of  them  remark.  "They  can  burn  old  man 
Parson's  blistering  hash  wagon  for  all  of  me,  after 
we're  through  with  the  elephant    .     .     ." 

The  golden  haired  girl  nearly  cried  out  loud. 

What  were  those  men  saying  ?  Parsons — elephant 
— then  that  ship  there  belonged  to  Matthew,  and  he 
was  in  San  Francisco!  To  think  of  it,  that  they 
should  meet  again  across  a  continent,  he  with  the 
Horn  behind  him,  and  she  sitting  there  on  the  beach 
where  she  might  almost  have  called  to  him  and  seen 
him  striding  towards  her,  to  keep  and  protect  now 
if  he  were  still  so  minded. 

But  then,  too,  there  was  another  matter.  Those 
men  were  come  seeking  the  elephant,  as  the  Dutch 
Captain  had  predicted,  and  it  meant  danger   for 

358 


EL  DORADO 

Matthew  and  none  to  warn  him — none  except  her- 
self, and  no  way  to  reach  him  now  if  he  was  aboard, 
as  he  would  certainly  be  with  his  ship  in  peril  of 
burning — no  way  unless  she  followed  those  men  and 
contrived   to   communicate   with   someone   on   the 

ship 

"Mercy!"  she  exclaimed.  "It  is  a  bold  thing  to 
do,  but  I  calculate  there  is  great  need  of  it !  I  would 
as  soon  attempt  it  as  sit  here  like  a  ninny  flgeting 
over  his  safety  .  .  ."  and  she  turned  with  eager 
hands  to  unfasten  the  rope  which  held  her  own 
boat. 


359 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  HOWLING  TWELVE 

1 

1\  Ji  R.  STIMSON  was  leaning  over  the  starboard 
rail  when  Matthew  and  Mr.  Luscomb  came 
scrambling  aboard  up  the  gand  plank. 

"If  it's  a,  now,  foot  race,"  he  remarked,  "I  calcu- 
late Mr.  Luscomb  gets  the  bonus — what's  after  you, 
Captain  Parsons  ?" 

"What's  after  me?"  Matthew  told  him.  "Whole 
reeling  town's  after  me — they're  going  to  burn  the 
ship " 

"...  and  hang  the  Captain  here  to  his  own  main- 
yard!" 

"Sweet  sailor's  life!"  Mr.  Stimson  exclaimed. 
"Burn  the  ship — hang  the  Captain — looks  now, 
like  it  might  be  a  busy  night!  Who  is  managing 
this,  now,  programme  of  festivities  ?" 

".  .  .  I'll  wager  Panama  Joe  and  the  crew  are  at 
360 


THE  HOWLING  TWELVE 

the  keel  of  it,"  the  third  mate  put  in.     "I  knew 
there'd  be  trouble  from  them." 

"I  calculate  the  crew  started  it,"  Matthew  said. 
"Went  ashore  and  threw  out  a  lot  of  hash  about 
cruel  treatment  on  the  voyage " 

"And  now  they  have  aroused  all  the  riffraff  of 
the  town,"  Mr.  Luscomb  added.  'The  Sydney 
Ducks,  and  the  Hounds — you  can  hear  them  back 
there " 

From  Kearney  Street  there  came  a  steady  roar 
now,  and  lanterns  were  already  bobbing  up  and 
down  at  the  head  of  Commercial  Street.  Some- 
where a  great  bell  was  clanging  out  a  frenzied  mes- 
sage to  the  stars. 

"That  is  for  a  posse,"  Mr.  Luscomb  said.  "But 
the  Hounds  will  reach  us  first  of  course,  and  shut 
off  Montgomery  Street  from  the  wharf.      .    .    ." 

Mr.  Stimson  spat  very  deliberately  over  the  rail 
and  turned  to  Matthew. 

"In  a  few  moments  I  calculate  this  here,  now, 
Golden  Fleece  will  be  a  floating  Alamo,"  he  ob- 
served.   "What  are  your  orders,  Captain  Parsons  ?" 

"Well,  soak  me,  Mr.  Stimson,  what  do  you  think 
is  best — take  in  that  gang  plank  there,  boatswain, 

361 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

and  extinguish  all  lights — and  batten  down  hatches 
— look  alive  there,  you  boys " 

"Aye  aye,  Sir    .    .    ." 

"How  many  have  we  aboard?" 

"The  three  of  us,  Sir,  and  the  second,  third  and 
fourth  mates — that's  six — and  the  boatswain  and  the 
carpenter — that's,  now,  eight — and  four  boys. 
Twelve,  and  the  ship's  cat " 

"All  right,"  Matthew  cut  in.  "Twelve  of  us. 
Distribute  pistols  and  belaying  pins,  Mr.  Stimson — 
some  of  you  see  that  the  fire  buckets  are  handy " 

"All  filled,  Sir." 

"Set  two  boys  to  watch  the  water  side  in  case 
they  put  out  in  boats.  No,  belay,  put  all  four  boys 
there,  it  will  give  them  something  to  do  and  keep 
them  out  of  mischief  as  much  as  possible !" 

"Aye  aye,  Sir." 

"That  leaves  eight.  Put  the  boatswain  at  the  bow 
and  the  carpenter  at  the  stern  with  hatchets  to  watch 
the  shore  lines." 

"You're  calculating  to  cut  her  adrift?"  Mr. 
Luscomb  suggested. 

"Yes,  if  necessary,  I  reckon  there's  just  enough 
wind  to  ease  her  out  stern  first  and  trust  to  luck." 

"Surely." 

362 


THE  HOWLING  TWELVE 

"Thank  fortune  we  have  a  topsail  loose,  that  will 
help.  Now,  what  have  we  left,  six?  Then  the 
three  mates  will  watch  the  wharf  side,  and  the  three 
of  us  will  divide  the  deck." 

"That  will  leave  plenty  of,  now,  leeway  if  they  try 
to  board  us !"  Mr.  Stimson  pointed  out. 

"We're  not  overmanned,  are  we!"  Matthew 
smiled.  "Do  not  shoot  until  necessary — it  may  be 
that  it  will  all  blow  over  in  talk,  and  we  can  not 
afford  to  aggravate  matters — but  fill  the  first  pock- 
marked cockroach  that  sets  foot  or  finger  to  the  ship 
full  of  holes !    Muster  the  men,  Mr.  Stimson." 

"I  calculate  we're  all  here,  Sir — the  whole  howl- 
ing twelve  of  us !" 

"Gentlemen,  "  Matthew  told  his  officers.  "And 
you,  boatswain  and  carpenter — and  you  boys  there 
— this  is  Mr.  Luscomb,  the  agent  of  the  owners — 
I  reckon  you  all  know  what  is  doing.  Mr.  Stimson 
will  assign  you  to  your  quarters.  All  I  wish  to  say 
is  whatever  happens  to  me,  or  to  Mr.  Luscomb,  or 
to  any  of  us — save*the  ship!" 

"Aye  aye,  Sir!"  came  the  chorus,  and  they  ran  to 
their  posts  like  powder  monkeys,  rolling  up  their 
sleeves  and  hailing  one  another. 

"Save  the  ship !"  the  word  went  down  both  rails, 
363 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

from  greaser  to  boy  and  back  again.     "Save  the 
ship — and  stand  by  the  Old  Man!" 


"Here  they  come,  Sir!"  the  boatswain  shouted 
suddenly  through  cupped  hands.  "Here  they  come 
—stand  by,  all!" 

Yes,  they  were  swarming  down  Commercial 
Street  from  Kearney,  and  up  Montgomery  Street 
on  both  sides  from  Clay  and  Washington  Streets, 
and  on  to  the  opening  of  Long  Wharf — a  twink- 
ling of  swaying  lanterns — a  roaring  river  of  threat- 
ening outcries,  rising  and  swelling  on  one  blood 
chilling  note,  until  it  broke  finally  like  a  pot  that 
boils  over  into  a  cataract  of  shouts  and  epithets,  as 
the  voices  became  human  figures  gesticulating  in  the 
dancing  light — a  forest  of  clubs  and  spikes,  shaken 
by  the  rushing  wind  of  a  rabble's  unreasoning 
fury.     .     .     . 

"We'll  have  the  Captain — bring  out  the  greasy 
orphan — " 

".    .    .  burn  his  glittering  ship !" 

"Death  to  the  murdering,  brain  spilling  son  of  a 
hairy  centipede!" 

364 


THE  HOWLING  TWELVE 

"Take  her  by  storm — rip  out  her  masts — fire  the 
floating  devil's  paradise!" 

"Hang  the  steaming  swill  pail's  scum — " 

A  murmur  ran  down  the  Golden  Fleece's  rail,  and 
Matthew  called  quickly  to  his  men. 

"Belay  there !"  he  cried.  "They  will  not  burn  the 
ship  with  words,  nor  hang  me  with  their  insults — 
keep  your  stations.    ..." 

Out  on  the  wharf  the  Chief  Rioter  of  the  Re- 
gulators, followed  by  his  Hound  Captains,  was 
silencing  the  mob,  pushing  them  back  from  the 
dock's  edge,  clearing  a  space  for  himself. 

"Dry  up — dry  up !  Fall  in,  Regulators — law  and 
order!" 

A  deep  stillness  descended  suddenly  on  the  throng, 
the  stillness  of  breathless  anticipation,  broken  only 
by  the  frenzied  clanging  of  that  great  bell  some- 
where back  there  where  better  intentioned  citizens 
were  gathering.  The  Chief  Rioter  stepped  forward 
and  hailed  the  silent  ship. 

"Golden  Fleece,  ahoy !" 

"Aye  aye — "  came  the  reply  from  the  deck. 

"In  the  name  of  justice,  and  law  and  order,  as 
Chief  Rioter  and  Master  of  the  Military  to  the 
Society  of  Regulators  here  assembled,  I  summon 

365 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

you  to  turn  over  into  our  hands  the  Captain  of  this 
ship,  to  be  tried  for  murder." 

"Go  caulk  your  seams,  you  pot  bellied  lubber!" 
went  the  answer,  in  tones  which  were  unmistakably 
Mr.  Stimson's. 

"If  you  refuse,"  the  Rioter  continued,  "we  will 
board  you  and  take  him  by  force,  and  hang  him  to 
his  own  mainyard,  before  we  burn  your  ship !" 

In  the  roar  of  cheers  which  followed  this  declara- 
tion, Mr.  Luscomb  climbed  up  on  the  bulwark  before 
anyone  could  stop  him  and  shouted  a  defiant  warn- 
ing at  the  upturned  faces  beneath  him. 

"I  am  Luscomb,"  he  told  them.  "The  agent  for 
this  ship,  and  a  citizen  of  San  Francisco.  I  warn 
you  that  what  you  threaten  is  piracy !  If  the  crew 
have  any  complaints  let  them  go  to  the  Federal 
authorities  and  to  the  Alcalde.  I  will  be  responsible 
for  the  ship  and  for  her  Captain " 

"Bring  him  out — heave  him  over  the  side  with  his 
diamond  door  knobs " 

11  Get  down,  Luscomb!"  from  Matthew,  but  the 
little  man  had  not  finished. 

"You  are  not  dealing  with  Chilenos  here,  but  with 
determined  American  citizens.  I  summon  you  to 
quit  this  wharf,  and  keep  your  hands  off  this  vessel, 

366 


THE  HOWLING  TWELVE 

and  from  violence  against  any  person  aboard — or 
you  will  bitterly  regret " 

"Dry  up — dry  up!"  they  howled  him  down,  just 
as  Mr.  Stimson  came  up  behind  him  and  pulled  him 
back  from  the  bulwark. 

"I  calculate  you  make  too  good  a  target,  Mr.  Lus- 
comb,"  he  said  to  him.  ' 'Standing  up  there  like  a, 
now,  gilded  figurehead — we'll  have  Captain  Par- 
sons following  you  next!"  and  then  he  climbed  up 
on  the  bulwark  himself,  in  spite  of  Matthew's 
frantic  appeals  from  the  quarterdeck. 

"We've  heard  your  staggering  summons,"  he 
called  to  the  Rioter.  "And  this  is  the  answer,  you 
vociferating,  now,  chunk  of  rat  food — go  scratch 
yourself  before  I  spit  in  your  eye !" 

Mr.  Stimson  dropped  to  the  deck  under  a  hail  of 
sticks  and  rocks,  and  the  cheer  that  followed  this 
time  came  from  the  Golden  Fleece.     .     .     . 

This  was  all  bad  enough  for  a  beginning,  as 
Matthew  realised,  in  spite  of  his  laughter  at  Mr. 
Stimson's  methods  of  conducting  a  parley  for  the 
purpose  of  avoiding  trouble!  But  of  course  the 
whole  performance  had  only  been  a  blind,  carefully 
planned  in  advance  by  the  Rioter. 

"Forward,  Regulators — board  herl"  came  the 
367 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

ringing  cry,  high  above  the  turmoil  on  the  wharf, 
and  at  the  expected  signal  the  crowd  behind  him 
suddenly  opened  up,  unmasking  three  ladders  which 
were  rushed  to  the  side  of  the  ship. 

"Let  go!  Give  them  the  lead — shoot  at  their 
stomachs  I"  Matthew  ordered. 

But  before  the  mates  could  say  Davy  Jones  a 
score  of  men  were  already  swarming  up  the  ladders, 
leaping  for  the  rail  in  defiance  of  the  steady  spat- 
tering of  bullets  from  the  deck,  while  a  trail  of 
flaming  firebrands  went  soaring  into  the  rigging. 

"Stand  by!"  Matthew  shouted.  "Over  the  side 
with  them — man  fire  buckets,  you  boys    .    .    ." 

Mr.  Luscomb  and  Mr.  Stimson  had  rushed  to  the 
assistance  of  the  hard  pressed  mates,  and  a  wild 
scramble  was  going  on  along  the  rail  at  the  head  of 

each  ladder 

'Pull  out  their  eyes  .  .  ." 
'.  .  .  bite  their  ears  off  I" 
'Dish  the  hash — dish  the  hash " 

"Hounds — Hounds — Hounds !" 
.    .  sweet  sailor's  life    .    .    ." 
— a  grunting,  swearing,  hand  to  hand,  boot  and 
fist  and  belaying  pin  battle,  with  the  ladders  swaying 
and  slipping,  and  dim  figures  tottering  on  the  bul- 

368 


THE  HOWLING  TWELVE 

wark,  toppling  over  under  the  swinging  capstan 
bars,  for  neither  side  dared  to  bring  its  pistols  into 
play  in  such  a  blind  melee.  Of  course  the  defenders 
had  the  advantage  of  footing  and  position,  and  one 
of  the  ladders  had  already  crashed  once  to  the 
ground  spilling  its  howling  freight,  but  the  other 
two  were  still  in  place,  and  for  every  man  who  went 
over  the  side  with  a  cracked  skull  three  more  came 
scrambling  up  in  his  stead. 

".  .  .  all  aboard  with  a  rush — man  the  ladders, 
and  over  the  rail  P 

"Up  the  side,  Regulators,  there's  only  a  handful 
of  them " 

Out  in  the  bow  the  boatswain  was  having  a  private 
affray  of  his  own  with  a  handful  of  invaders  who 
were  trying  to  climb  up  the  forward  hawser — and 
as  he  ran  along  the  deck  encouraging  his  men,  Mat- 
thew caught  sight  of  one  of  his  boys  standing  beside 
the  boatswain,  enthusiastically  poking  the  attackers 
in  the  face  with  a  burning  stump ! 

"That's  the  prancing  bucko!  Bore  holes  in  the 
galloping  worm's  litter " 

The  Golden  Fleece  and  her  "howling  twelve" 
were  giving  a  splendid  account  of  themselves  in  the 
face  of  overwhelming  numbers — but  the  firebrands 
24  369 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

were  raining  again  everywhere,  and  it  was  only  a 
question  of  minutes  now  before  one  or  more  of  the 
ladders  would  unload  its  whole  boarding  party  onto 
the  deck.  Matthew  emptied  his  pistol  over  the  side 
into  the  midst  of  the  most  urgently  threatening 
swarm,  and  ran  back  to  the  wheel — the  rosewood 
wheel  with  the  ebony  spokes ! 

"Cut  hawsers  fore  and  aft!"  he  shouted. 
Cast  her  adrift — pass  the  word  along,  boy,  cut 
hawsers!" 

There  was  a  flash  of  hatchets  at  the  stern  and 
bow,  a  sudden  scraping  of  ladders  along  the  side  as 
the  Golden  Fleece  edged  away  gently  from  the 
wharf  before  the  Heaven  sent  land  breeze,  and  a 
great  roar  of  rage  from  the  mob  which  drowned  out 
the  terrified  screams  of  those  who  were  caught  on 
the  falling  ladders  out  of  reach  of  the  rail — in  the 
midst  of  which  a  boy's  excited  cry  went  entirely 
unheeded 

"Small  boat  on  the  port  side,  Sir — passing  under 
the  stern.     .     .     ." 


The  Golden  Fleece  eased  off,  sideways  at  first,  and 
then  her  main  topsail  still  hanging  in  its  gear  caught 

370 


THE  HOWLING  TWELVE 

the  breeze  and  backed,  just  sufficiently  to  drive  her 
stern  first  out  into  the  Bay.  At  the  wheel,  stearing 
his  ship  as  probably  no  Captain  had  ever  steared  a 
ship  before — with  his  back  turned  to  the  bow — Mat- 
thew looked  over  his  shoulder,  in  answer  to  the 
carpenter's  exclamation  of  dismay. 

Behind  him  on  the  deck  the  Golden  Fleece  was  a 
floating  riot,  sailing  out  blindly  into  San  Francisco 
Bay  with  her  twelve  defenders  and  perhaps  a  score 
of  Sydney  Ducks  and  sailors  who  had  managed  to 
cling  to  the  rail  at  the  last  minute  and  swing  them- 
selves aboard — all  of  them  surging  up  and  down, 
rolling  around  in  the  dark,  biting,  kicking,  smash- 
ing one  another  to  pieces,  falling  all  over  each  other. 

"Soak  me,  go  forward  and  help,"  Matthew  told 
the  carpenter,  but  the  man  shook  his  head. 

"And  leave  you,  Sir?"  he  objected.  "There's 
nothing  between  you  and  them  while  you  stear  the 
ship  with  your  back  turned,  unless  I  stand  by — I'll 
not  obey  your  order,  Sir!" 

"Rum  and  hornets,  I  command  you — "  Matthew 
insisted,  but  the  carpenter  smiled. 

"Then  I  must  mutiny,  Sir!"  he  remarked  cheer- 
fully, while  Matthew  danced  up  and  down  helplessly, 
spinning    the    ebony    spokes    as    one    black    hull 

371 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

after  another  loomed  up  around  them  in  the 
darkness. 

"Take  the  wheel  then!"  he  exclaimed  finally. 
"Stear  for  open  water — "  and  before  the  carpenter 
could  stop  him  Matthew  sprang  forward  with 
a  whoop,  armed  with  a  couple  of  belaying 
pins.    .    .    . 

The  boys  of  course  had  jumped  head  first  into  the 
fray,  all  four  of  them,  and  the  boatswain  with  his 
hatchet  was  dealing  out  ghastly  destruction  right 
and  left.  Over  by  the  foremast  Mr.  Luscomb  was 
sitting  on  a  man's  back,  kicking  him  in  the  head, 
with  his  arms  wrapped  around  the  legs  of  another 
who  was  trying  desperately  to  free  himself  by  climb- 
ing up  into  the  rigging 

"Let  go,  Luscomb!"  Matthew  called  to  him. 
"That's  the  fourth  mate  you've  got  there.    .    .    ." 

Mr.  Luscomb  turned  his  energies  to  a  more  profit- 
able quarter,  and  Matthew  ducked  only  just  in  time 
to  avoid  the  third  mate  who  came  suddenly  flying 
off  the  top  of  the  forecastle  into  a  group  of  his  one 
time  sailors  who  had  the  greaser  in  a  bad  way  near 
the  rail. 

"Soak  me,  I  calculate  even  the  ship's  cat  is  in  it 
somewhere!"   Matthew  thought  to  himself  as  he 

372 


THE  HOWLING  TWELVE 

picked  out  a  white  shirted  Hound  and  split  open 
his  head  with  a  swinging  blow    .    .    . 

And  of  course,  irrespective  of  where  the  ship's 
cat  may  have  been,  somewhere  in  the  midst  of  it  all 
there  was  a  tongue  blistering  uproar,  a  screeching, 
handspike  heaving  commotion  which  was  Mr.  Stim- 
son  very  busily,  and  to  all  appearances  most  enjoy- 
ably,  engaged  in  the  process  of  "spitting  in  the  eye'' 
of  every  "vociferating  chunk  of  rat  food"  he  could 
reach ! 

".  .  .  great  staggering  frying  pans  of  repent- 
ance— screaming  hinges  of  paradise — black  boiling 
dishes  of  sin — frayed  out  edges  of  a  journeyman 
tailor's  pants — sweet  roaring  forget  me  nots — 
bright  hairy  dancing  palaces  of  vermin.    .    .    ." 

Matthew  nearly  missed  his  mark  once  or  twice — 
he  was  doing  them  in  two  at  a  time  now — laughing 
at  Mr.  Stimson's  extraordinary  profanities,  but  the 
Mate  was  surely  proving  himself  to  be  a  terror  with 
a  handspike,  and  if  it  was  any  help  to  him  to  carry 
on  this  running  monologue  of  sky  splitting  curses, 
then  more  speed  to  his  tongue ! 

And  little  by  little  the  defenders  began  to  get  the 
better  of  it,  due  to  their  greater  familiarity  with  the 
obscurities  of  the  ship,  or  possibly  to  their  utterly 

373 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

reckless  manner  of  plunging  feet  first  into  every 
whirling  heap  of  arms  and  legs  and  smashing  their 
way  through  to  the  bottom  of  the  pile.  There  came 
a  moment  when  foes  were  more  difficult  to  find  than 
friends,  and  the  time  finally  when  such  of  the 
former  as  had  not  leaped  overboard  were  stretched, 
battered  and  senseless,  on  the  deck. 

"Sweet  sailor's  life !"  Mr.  Stimson  panted.  "Let's 
go  back  and  take  on  another  load  of  these,  now, 
little  prancing  angels.    .    .    ." 

The  Golden  Fleece  was  a  sorry  mess  when  they 
brought  the  lanterns  and  took  stock  of  themselves ! 
Dead  men — groaning  figures  spattered  with  blood 
— torn  shreds  of  clothing — pools  of  crimson  stain- 
ing the  holystoned  planks — splintered  woodwork 
where  the  boatswain  had  left  his  mark — a  little  of 
scraps  and  chips  and  white  twisted  bodies 

The  "howling  twelve"  themselves  were  no  better 
off,  except  that  they  were  all  alive,  and  none  of 
them  seriously  injured — but  Mr.  Stimson  was  not 
a  pretty  sight  with  his  bleeding  mouth  and  torn 
hands,  and  the  third  mate,  for  instance,  was  a 
terrifying  apparition,  unimproved  by  the  lopsided 
grin  which  decorated  his  unrecognisable  features. 

"I  said  there'd  be  trouble/'  he  crowed  huskily. 
374 


THE  HOWLING  TWELVE 

"And  by  the  great  living  Black  Ball  I  calculate  this 
comes  under  that  heading!  I  think  I've  a  broken 
rib.    .    .    ." 

As  for  Mr.  Luscomb  he  had  somehow  managed 
to  lose  all  the  clothes  of!  his  back  from  the  belt  up, 
and  his  white  skin  gleamed  in  the  light,  glistening 
with  perspiration,  while  Matthew  unconsciously 
smeared  the  moisture  out  of  his  own  eyes  two  or 
three  times  before  he  realised  that  it  was  streaming 
from  a  cut  above  his  forehead.  The  boys  of  course 
were  half  naked,  bloody  nosed  and  bruised,  and  all 
shiny  eyed  over  their  first  ordeal  by  battle ! 

"Sinner's  redemption !"  Matthew  exclaimed. 
"I'd  admire  to  have  your  wives  and  mothers  see 
you !  Clean  ship — heave  this  scum  over  the  side  and 
lock  up  the  rest " 

"Where  do  you  calculate  to  fetch  up  here  in  the 
Bay,  on  this  now,  pleasure  cruise?"  Mr.  Stimson 
reminded  him. 

"Soak  me,  that's  so — Carpenter !  How  does  she 
head?" 

"By  the  stern,  Sir,  hell  bent  for  the  gold  mines !" 
that  worthy  replied. 

"How  are  you  for  water?" 

"All  clear,  Sir " 

375 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Matthew  turned  to  the  boatswain. 

"Let  go  the  anchor,' '  he  ordered.  "We'll  stay 
here  a  spell.    .    .    ." 

It  was  then  that  he  became  aware  of  one  of  the 
boys  pulling  at  his  sleeve,  and  trying  to  pretend 
that  he  had  not  lost  two  front  teeth  in  the  recent 
jamboree. 

"Well,  my  lad?" 

"Please,  Captain  Parsons,  Sir — I  reported  it 
before,  but  we've  been  so  busy  ever  since — there 
was  a  small  boat  under  the  stern  when  we  slipped 
our  hawsers — I  calculate  there's  some  of  them  below 
perhaps " 

"Blood  and  nouns !  Below — "  and  Matthew  went 
tearing  down  the  deck  towards  the  companion- 
way.    .    .    . 


!,76 


CHAPTER  XII 
OH,  SUSANNA! 

1 

T^V  OWN  in  the  "gold  and  ivory,"  "diamond  door 
**^  knobbed* '  cabin,  Panama  Joe  stopped  suddenly 
with  one  foot  still  on  the  divan  under  the  stern 
windows  through  which  he  had  just  climbed  and 
listened  intently  for  a  second  or  two,  turning  his 
vicious  face  this  way  and  that. 

"Sweet  winds  of  night !"  he  exclaimed. 

The  commotion  on  the  deck  above  was  one  thing, 
but  now  there  was  a  little  creaking  whisper  running 
through  the  panels,  a  sudden  definite  rippling  of 
water  alongside,  a  gentle  tremor  of  motion  under  his 
feet — the  Golden  Fleece  was  under  way. 

"Jumping  Jonah!"  he  exclaimed  again,  and 
brought  his  ferreting  gaze  to  rest  on  the  walnut 
cabinet  containing  the  blue  Min  Hsing  elephant 


377 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

So  far  everything  had  turned  out  even  better  than 
he  had  expected.  Those  "bummers''  ashore  had 
swallowed  his  fairy  tales  about  the  horrors  of  the 
voyage,  and  his  fantastic  descriptions  of  the  treas- 
ures in  the  cabin,  knots,  strips  and  all,  down  to  the 
hundred  fathom  leather  mark !  All  afternoon  he  had 
watched  them  working  themselves  up  into  a  violently 
riotous  frame  of  mind,  fed  by  the  fuel  of  his  ju- 
dicious inventions,  and  finally  out  in  front  of  the 
Tammany  tent  he  had  harangued  the  gathering  with 
an  impassioned  speech  which  had  sent  the  whole 
boiling  of  them  roaring  down  Commercial  Street, 
intent  on  the  devil  only  knew  what  criminal  follies ! 

"Diamond  door  knobs — sailor's  wrongs — murder- 
ing swine — "  it  had  all  been  as  simple  as  heaving 
the  lead. 

Whereupon  Panama  Joe  had  turned  his  back  on 
them  and  run  off  in  the  opposite  direction,  followed 
by  the  one  other  member  of  the  crew  whom  he  had 
found  it  necessary  to  take  into  his  confidence,  that 
notorious  "child  of  storm"  Strawberry  Pete. 

"The  elephant,"  he  had  whispered  in  his  ear. 
"My  old  man,  that  sailed  with  this  angel's  pet's 
father  in  the  Felicity  Belle,  he  saw  it  done  with  his 
own  blinking  eyes    .    .    ."  and  the  other  had  smacked 

378 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

his  lips  and  contrived  to  remain  sober  in  the  presence 
of  overwhelming  temptation. 

They  crossed  Clay  Street  and  went  on  down  Kear- 
ney to  California  Street  where  they  turned  off 
towards  Montgomery  and  the  water  front.  Over 
on  Long  Wharf  "  all  hell's  fireworks"  were  already 
popping,  and  Panama  Joe  stopped  and  grinned  at 
his  companion. 

"Like  stealing  shirts  from  a  Dutchman, "  he  re- 
marked. "They  can  burn  old  man  Parson'  blister- 
ing hash  wagon  for  all  of  me,  after  we're  through 
with  the  elephant,  Strawberry  old  pal !" 

"I  should  spit,"  replied  the  other. 

They  pushed  off  in  one  of  the  small  boats  drawn 
up  along  the  beach,  and  while  the  excitement  on  the 
wharf  was  at  its  loudest  they  slipped  under  the  stern 
of  the  Golden  Fleece. 

"Stay  in  the  boat  and  stand  by,"  Panama  Joe  told 
Strawberry.  "I'll  pop  in  and  out  of  the  stern  ports 
faster  than  a  cork  from  a  bottle." 

"I  should  spit,"  Strawberry  Pete  observed  once 
more. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  it  had  not  been  so  easy,  this 
business  of  "popping"  through  the  stern  ports,  but 
Panama  Joe  had  managed  it  finally,  scrambling  up 

379 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

the  rudder  like  a  crab  and  hanging  on  limpetwise 
to  the  stern  decorations,  and  he  had  thought  to 
bring  a  rope  with  him  for  the  descent  afterwards. 
It  was  just  as  he  was  fastening  it  that  he  had  felt 
that  first  unmistakable  tremble  of  a  moving 
vessel  .  .  . 


Panama  Joe  had  not  counted  on  that.  It  had  not 
occurred  to  him  that  they  would  cut  the  Golden 
Fleece  adrift,  and  if  they  had  succeeded  in  doing  so 
it  might  well  mean  that  she  was  clear  of  the  Sydney 
Ducks  entirely,  in  which  case  he  was  trapped  aboard, 
except  for  his  precarious  stern  port  and  the  none 
too  dependable  presence  of  Strawberry  Pete  and  the 
small  boat. 

And  so  instead  of  going  at  once  to  the  walnut 
cabinet  and  securing  the  coveted  elephant,  Panama 
Joe  ran  across  the  cabin  and  up  the  companionway, 
and  wasted  the  precious  minutes  cautiously  sticking 
his  head  out  through  the  opening  in  an  effort  to  de- 
termine what  was  taking  place  on  the  deck. 

The  Golden  Fleece  was  adrift  and  no  mistake, 
floating  out  into  the  Bay,  and  the  thought  came  to 
him  that  if  she  struck  anything  it  would  be  stern 

380 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

i 

first,  which  would  make  mince  meat  of  the  small 

boat!  The  only  encouraging  feature  of  the  situa- 
tion was  the  roaring  battle  which  was  going  on  up 
forward — they  would  all  be  too  busy  for  the  time 
being  to  think  of  coming  below. 

"Make  it  a  round  of  jackpots,  my  buckos,  and 
keep  her  going!"  he  said  to  himself,  and  dropped 
back  quickly  down  the  companionway. 

This  time  he  went  to  the  walnut  cabinet,  smashed 
the  glass,  knowing  that  nothing  would  be  heard 
above,  and  took  out  the  elephant. 

"Come  to  me,  my  prancing  beauty!"  he  leered  at 
it,  and  shook  it  close  to  his  ear.  "I  don't  hear  noth- 
ing— but  I'll  soon  fix  that — "  he  added.  "Then  I 
calculate  I'll  tell  Strawberry  it  was  empty!"  and  he 
drew  back  his  arm  as  though  to  break  the  elephant 
against  the  wall. 

Only  instead  of  doing  so  he  suddenly  felt  his 
wrist  seized  from  behind  in  a  relentless  grasp,  while 
the  voice  of  Strawberry  Pete  came  grunting  in  his 
ear.     Panama  Joe  had  not  counted  on  that  either! 

"So  you  would,  mate — scuttle  a  pal,  that's  the 
foaming  course,  is  it?" 

Panama  Joe  wrenched  himself  free,  and  set  the 
elephant  down  on  the  stairs  as  he  backed  away. 

381 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"What  brings  you  here,  you  galloping  bar- 
nacle?" he  roared.  "You  were  to  stay  in  the 
boat " 

"I  should  spit!  The  boat's  sunk,  I  climbed  up 
the  rope — I'm  no  staggering  mermaid !" 

"The  boat — sweet  winds    .     .    /' 

"I  heard  you,  mate !  You'll  not  tell  me  it's  empty, 
because  I  calculate  you'll  not  see  the  insides  of  it 
.  .  ."  and  Strawberry  Pete  sprang  at  Panama  Joe 
and  coiled  himself  around  him  like  a  snapping 
hawser. 

And  while  they  were  making  a  butcher  shop  of 
the  Golden  Fleece  up  above,  down  below  they  turned 
the  gilded  walnut  and  ebony  cabin,  inlaid  with  holly, 
and  rose  and  zebra  wood,  with  its  painted  ceiling 
and  its  brocatel  cushions — that  dignified  apartment 
of  Felicity's — into  a  slop  heap ! 

Chairs,  hangings,  side  lamps — everything  went 
ripping  and  splitting,  while  they  fought  up  and  down 
the  room,  tearing  at  each  other's  throats,  scratching 
great  scars  in  the  beautiful  polished  panels  with  their 
boots,  gouging,  and  cursing  and  grunting — every- 
thing except  the  big  hanging  lamp  above  the  table 
fixed  to  the  floor. 

And  the  blue  Min  Hsing  elephant,  standing  there 
382 


OH,  SUSANNA! 
on  the  steps  watching  it  all,  and  laughing — laughing 

From  the  first,  of  course,  it  was  a  death  grapple 
— there  was  never  any  doubt  about  that — and  when 
it  was  all  over  finally  it  was  Strawberry  Pete  who 
lay  stretched  out,  lifeless,  on  the  velvet  carpet. 

"I  should  spit  !"  Panama  Joe  sneered  at  him,  and 

did  so,  stooping  over  the  body — and  at  that  moment 

the  rumble  of  the  falling  anchor  came  to  his  ears 

from  up  forward. 

*  'Rum  -  bum  -  bum  -  bum  -  bumbum? —  bum&ttmbum 
ft 

But  it  was  not  that  sound  which  made  him  look 
sharply  over  his  shoulder.  It  was  another  sound, 
behind  him  there,  in  the  cabin. 

For  a  second  or  two  he  crouched  with  staring  eyes, 
gazing  across  the  table,  and  then  he  took  a  slow 
step  forward,  the  step  of  a  night  hunting  beast,  with 
his  bloody  fingers  set  like  claws. 

"You'll  not  say  a  word,"  he  whispered    .    .    . 


Matthew  went  tearing  down  towards  the  cabin 
skylight,  and  as  he  sprang  up  the  break  of  the  quar- 
terdeck it  occurred  to  him  that  he  was  unarmed — 

383 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

his  pistol  was  empty  and  he  had  flung  aside  the  be- 
laying pins — but  no  matter,  Mr.  Stimson  and  some 
of  the  others  would  come  after  him. 

He  flung  himself  down  the  companionway,  and  as 
he  reached  the  landing,  under  the  big  mirror  in  its 
heavy  gold  cable  frame,  he  stopped  dead  for  a  sec- 
ond, breathless  at  the  sight  of  his  battered  cabin 

Holy  Saint  Christopher.    .    .    . 

His  cabin — and  a  dead  man  on  the  floor — and 
that  other  there — great  stinging  hornets,  Panama 
Joe!  Creeping  forward,  around  the  table,  murder- 
ously intent  on  something  beside  the  stairs  out  of 
Matthew's  sight    .    .    . 

And  then  Matthew  saw  the  elephant  at  his  feet. 

".  .  .  three  times  stolen,  the  fourth  time 
will  be  the  last — wisdom  to  break  it  and 
throw  it  away  when  the  proper  time 
comes    .    .    ." 

All  these  things  went  through  his  mind  during 

that  second  on  the  landing,  while  he  stooped  to  pick 

up  the  elephant. 

".  .  .  when  the  proper  time  comes,  no 
matter  how  precious    .    .    ." 

Matthew  raised  his  arm  and  hurled  the  elephant 
at  Panama  Joe's  head — and  almost  with  the  same 

384 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

motion  he  leaped  forward  himself  from  the  stairs 
and  came  crashing  down  on  the  other's  shoulders, 
twisting  him  backwards  over  the  table.  Under  their 
feet  the  fragments  of  the  broken  elephant  clinked 
and  crunched. 

They  rolled  off  the  table  finally  onto  the  floor — 
three  of  them  now,  for  Mr.  Stimson  had  come 
roaring  into  the  midst  of  it  too — and  with  his  last 
breath  squeezing  from  his  throat  under  Matthew's 
pitiless  fingers  Panama  Joe  reached  out  a  wavering 
hand  for  the  laughing  head  with  the  twisted  trunk 
and  the  creamy  white  tusks. 

"Jewels — diamonds,  and  emeralds  and  sapphires 
.  .  ."  he  gasped,  but  only  a  thick,  rattling  whisper 
came  from  his  blackening  lips.  His  hand  twitched 
once  or  twice,  the  bloody  clawlike  fingers  clutching 
the  air    .    .    . 

Panama  Joe  was  dead. 

4 

Matthew  pulled  himself  up  from  the  floor  and 
stood  leaning  against  the  edge  of  the  table,  blinking 
at  the  corner  of  the  cabin,  the  corner  that  had  been 
hidden  from  him  before  by  the  stairs. 
*s  385 


OH,  SUSANNA!     * 

"Soak  me — this  is  no  place  for  you,  Miss!"  he 
said  to  the  golden  haired  girl  who  was  standing 
there  wide  eyed,  with  her  hands  up  to  her  face, 
staring  back  at  him.  As  for  the  marvel  of  her 
presence,  he  had  no  wits  with  which  to  fathom 
it. 

"Oh,  Sir,"  she  replied  finally.  "I  calculate  the 
worst  is  over !"  and  Mr.  Stimson  laughed. 

"I  admire  to  hear  you  say  so,  Miss,"  he  remarked. 
"Though  how  you  come  to  be  aboard  this,  now,  joy 
packet,  is  more  than  I  can  think — but  then  there's 
been  a  smart  of  strangers  aboard  this  evening,  to 
be  sure !" 

"I  know  this  lady,"  Matthew  told  him.  "This  is 
Miss  Crane  of  New  York — soak  me,  Miss,  how  do 
you  come  to  be  here?" 

"I  came  in  a  boat  to  give  you  warning  of  these 
men,"  she  explained.  "But  when  I  was  alongside 
at  the  wharf  you  were  in  such  a  state  above  I  could 
not  make  myself  heard,  and  so  I — I  climbed 
aboard " 

"I  have  never  in  all  my,  now,  born  days  sailed  in 
a  ship  that  was  so  easily  boarded,"  Mr.  Stimson 
observed.  "They  have  come  by  the  anchor  chains, 
and  by  ladders  up  the  side,  and  through  the  stern 

386 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

ports,  like  bees  to  a  swarming.  What  way  did  you 
find,  Miss?" 

"Why,  Sir,  there  was  a  rope  dangling  from  the 
port  side — I  contrived  to  make  use  of  it " 

"Sweet  sailor's  life!  The  rope  we  had  let  down 
for  Mr.  Luscomb  in  the  Bay — it  was  a  chancy  thing 
to  do.  And  four  boys  watching  the  side  as  I 
thought!" 

"Oh,  Sir,  the  boys  had  joined  lustily  in  the  fray, 
they  were  not  at  fault " 

"Rum  and  hornets !"  Matthew  exclaimed.  "Then 
you  have  been  aboard  all  this  time  and  I  did  not 
know  it.'' 

"Well,  sweet  sailor's  life!"  Mr.  Stimson  said  to 
him.  "You  could  not  expect,  now,  to  call  them  all 
by  name  in  the  press!  I  would  admire  to  lay  my 
hands  on  the  boy  that  left  that  rope  over  the  side — 
I'll  dangle  him  with    .     .     ." 

But  Mr.  Stimson  did  not  trouble  to  finish  his 
sentence  because  it  became  perfectly  obvious  to  him 
at  that  point  that  Matthew  was  not  even  listening 
to  him  any  more.  He  leaned  over  and  gathered  in 
the  broken  bits  of  the  elephant. 

"I  wonder  what  that  scum  wanted  with  this,"  he 
said.    "It's  past  mending  now — I  reckon  I'll  be  go- 

387 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

ing  above  for  a  minute — "  and  this  time  it  was 
perfectly  obvious  that  not  only  was  Matthew  not 
listening  to  him,  but  likewise  neither  was  the  lady. 

"Tinkling  wedding  bells,  that's  what!"  Mr.  Stim- 
son  remarked  to  himself  as  he  went  up  the  com- 
panion way.  "I  calculate  they'll  contrive  to  make 
use  of  them!" 

5 

"Well,  soak  me,  Miss,"  Matthew  said  to  her. 
"You  will  not  tell  me  this  time  it  was  curiosity 
brought  you  into  this  peril!" 

"No,  Sir,  and  yet  as  I  advanced  upon  this  ven- 
ture the  more  it  seemed  to  get  the  better  of  me. 
After  I  had  climbed  aboard,  I  was  all  of  a  fidget  to 
continue  below  and  see  what  they  were  contriving !" 

"You  might  have  met  your  death,  Miss,  in  this 
brawl." 

"I  calculate  I  was  better  off  here,  Sir,  than  wander- 
ing in  San  Francisco  on  such  a  lawless  night " 

"How  do  you  mean,  Miss?  What  were  you  do- 
ing in  San  Francisco?" 

"I  hardly  know  where  to  begin,  Sir,"  she  told 
him.  "You  see,  we  came  to  California,  my  brother 
and  I — but,  Sir,  did  you  not  know?" 

388 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"No,  Miss.  That  is  why  you  vanished  from  the 
Pacific  Garden,  I  calculate.' ' 

"But  did  you  not  receive  my  message  I  left  for 
you  there?" 

"No,  Miss.  I  was  called  away  and  when  I  re- 
turned to  New  York  you  were  gone,  and  no  trace 
of  you.    I  would  have  admired  to  die  that  night." 

"Indeed,  Sir.  We  left  in  a  great  hurry  for  the 
Isthmus — it  was  the  song,  Oh,  Susanna.  We  sang 
it  so  much,  and  watched  them  rushing  off  to  the 
wharves,  until  finally  he  could  resist  it  no  longer." 

"Soak  me,  it  was  I  drove  you  away !" 

She  told  him  then  of  their  voyage,  and  of  the 
fever  in  Panama,  and  of  the  coming  of  the  Oost 
Indie,  while  Matthew  marveled  and  exclaimed  at 
her  tale. 

"Blood  and  nouns !  The  Dutch  Captain — I  must 
have  passed  him  as  I  came  up  to  San  Francisco. 
There  was  a  Dutch  vessel,  but  we  were  too  far  to 
speak    .     .     ." 

And  finally  she  described  the  journey  to  Sacra- 
mento, and  Enoch's  last  days  among  the  gold  rivers. 

".  .  .  he  would  persist  in  his  determination  to 
see  them.  He — he  died  when  we  had  been  there 
three  days." 

389 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Oh,  Miss,  I  am  sorry,"  Matthew  said  gently.  "I 
ought  never  to  have  given  you  those  words  to  the 
song — I  ought  not  to  have  written  them  in  the  first 
place  to  lure  others — perhaps  he  would  never  have 
come  otherwise." 

"Please  do  not  think  that,  Sir.  It  was  all  for  the 
best.    He  died  happily  at — at  the  end  of  his  journey." 

"And  you,  Miss,  you  returned  to  San  Francisco?" 

"Yes,  I  came  to  wait  for  the  Captain  to  take  me 
home  as  he  promised.  I  arrived  today,  and  on  the 
beach  I  heard  these  men  speaking  of  you,  and  how 
they  proposed  to  make  an  end  of  the  elephant.  And 
so  I — I  followed  them." 

"Soak  me " 

"I  knew  there  was  danger  from  the  elephant,  the 
Captain  had  told  me,  and  I  wished  to  warn  you  of 
it  if  possible." 

"I  calculate  you  are  the  bravest  girl  living,  Miss !" 

"No,  Sir.  I  think  it  is  simply  that  I  am  over 
bold " 

After  all,  she  knew  that  she  had  done  a  braver 
thing  in  New  York  in  going  away  from  him  than 
in  coming  to  him  this  evening. 

"Then  you  were  here  alone  below  with  those 
murdering  cockroaches?" 

390 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Yes,  Sir.  When  I  came  aboard  there  was  a 
great  to-do  to  starboard " 

"Soak  me,  Miss,  to-do  is  no  name  for  it !" 

"Although  I  had  followed  the  men  the  matter  of 
the  stern  port  delayed  them,  and  I  was  minded  to 
go  below  at  once  and  secure  the  elephant,  but  I  did 
not  have  time.  There  was  already  one  of  them 
climbing  up,  so  I  hid  in  a  side  cabin,  and  he  came 
through  the  window  as  I  watched.  That  one  there, 
Sir/' 

"Yes,  Panama  Joe,  he  was  one  of  the  crew " 

"Then  the  other  followed  him  and  they  fought, 
over  the  elephant." 

"There  has  been  a  smart  of  fighting  on  this  ship 
tonight,  Miss!" 

"I  saw  that  you  were  punishing  them  handsomely 
above,  Sir,  as  I  passed  by.  I  could  not  help  you 
there,  as  I  had  not  my  pistol  with  me  this  time !" 

"Oh,  Miss !  I  would  have  perished  with  anguish 
if  I  had  known  that  you  were  so  near." 

"I  calculated  I  had  best  be  satisfied  with  seeing  to 
the  elephant  until  you  had  settled  matters  with  the 
dastardly  ruffians !" 

"Soak  me  in  brine " 

"Well,  then  one  of  them  was  killed,  and  I  thought 
391 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

I  might  escape  by  the  stairs  and  take  the  elephant, 
but  the  other  one  saw  me.  He  would  have  mur- 
dered me,  I  think — and  then  you  came,  Sir !" 

'The  first  time,  on  the  Cygnet,  it  was  you  who 
came,  Miss,  do  you  remember?  You  have  done 
nothing  but  come  and  go  since  then  like  a  will-o'-the- 
wisp  !" 

They  stood  gazing  at  each  other  for  a  moment, 
and  then  Matthew  went  a  step  nearer. 

"Three  times  the  elephant  was  lost/'  he  told  her. 
'The  fourth  time  was  to  be  the  last.  With  you, 
Miss,  three  times  I  have  found  you,  and  there  shall 
be  no  fourth." 

"But  surely,  Sir,  it  is  I  this  time  who  have  found 
you!"  she  laughed.  "Although  if  you  had  not 
chosen  to  throw  away  the  elephant  it  would  have 
been  too  late.,, 

"The  time  for  the  elephant  had  come,  just  as  the 
Chinaman  said.  In  breaking  it  I  have  found  a  far 
better  thing." 

"What — what  have  you — have  you  found,  Sir?" 

"Soak  me,  but  you  will  have  me  stammering  too 
all  at  once,"  Matthew  smiled  at  her.  "I — I  have 
found  gold,  Miss." 

"Indeed,  Sir " 

392 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Yes,  the  rarest  gold  in  all  this  land  of  California 
— for  I  have  found  you,  Miss,  and  now — now,  if 
you  will  let  me,  I  am  going  to  take  care  of  you  all 
my  life,  and  never  lose  you  again." 

"I— I  do  not  mind,  Sir!" 

Matthew  came  forward  again  and  took  her  hand. 

"Do  you  see  this  cabin,  Miss — what  there  is  of 
it  standing?" 

"Yes,  Sir " 

"It  was  designed  by  my  mother,  Miss — for  my 
wife  to  go  to  sea  in !" 

"A  simpler  cabin  would  have  answered  just  as 
well,  Sir,  if  it  was  meant  for  me!"  she  smiled  up 
at  him. 

And  then  presumably  Matthew  had  intended  to 
kiss  her,  at  all  events  it  seemed  so  to  the  golden 
haired  girl — as  with  the  elephant,  after  all,  the  time 
had  come.  But  just  at  that  moment  Mr.  Stimson 
jcame  tumbling  down  into  the  cabin  again    .    .    . 


"You'll  pardon  me  for  disturbing  you,  Captain 
Parsons,"  he  said.  "But  this,  now,  tottering  ele- 
phant of  yours " 

393 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"Varnish  the  elephant,  Mr.  Stimson — can  you 
read  the  marriage  service,  with  Mr.  Luscomb  and 
the  third  mate  for  witnesses.     .     .     ." 

But  Mr.  Stimson  was  entirely  too  full  of  other 
matters  to  be  put  off  in  this  manner. 

"I  was  throwing  it  overboard,"  he  insisted. 
"When  I  found  this  here,  now,  valentine  tucked 
away  inside." 

He  came  to  the  table,  under  the  lamp,  and  showed 
them  the  two  objects  in  the  palm  of  his  hand.  One 
was  a  folded  scrap  of  parchment,  badly  crumpled, 
which  seemed  to  be  covered  with  writing,  the  other 
a  small,  lumpy  package,  wrapped  in  a  twisted  spill 
of  thin  paper. 

"He  shook  the  elephant  when  he  took  it  from  the 
cabinet,"  the  golden  haired  girl  began.  "The  man 
who  climbed  in  first  there — he  must  have 
known " 

"Panama  Joe — he  was  the  son  of  Sloping  Sam 
that  sailed  with  your  father  before,  Sir,"  Mr.  Stim- 
son added,  but  Matthew  had  already  taken  the  things 
from  him. 

"What's  all  this  how  do  you  do?"  he  exclaimed. 
"Inside  the  elephant — soak  me!" 

He  spread  out  the  parchment  first  and  read  it, 
394 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

while  an  amazed  look  came  over  his  face,  and  then 
he  turned  to  the  other  two. 

"Blood  and  nouns !  This  is  to  my  father,  many 
years  ago,  from  the  Chinaman,  Ah  Fung,  the  one 
that  sent  the  message  to  Yeddo,  Mr.  Stimson.  There 
was  a  prophecy,  you  know,  about  the  elephant — two 
prophecies,  and  soak  me,  but  they  have  all  come  true 
tonight,  good  luck  and  bad  luck — he  had  swallowed 
evil,  Maimunah  said — I'll  explain  that  later, 
listen 

"On  board  ship  Felicity  Belle,  in  the 
Parangambalang  River. 

"You  make  him  go  below  with  the  Dutch 
Captain 

"That  will  be  van  den  Bosch - 


— and  Ah  Fung  sits  on  the  deck  with  the 
blue  Min  Hsing  elephant  that  is  a  gift  from 
him  to  you,  and  with  the  jewels  returned 
from  the  stranded  junk. 

"And  Ah  Fung  make  him  thoughts. 

"He  was  a  sly  one,  the  Chinaman!  My  father  has 
told  me  about  these  things,  but  I  calculate  perhaps 
not  all  of  them ! 

"If  this  paper  you  find,  it  is  that  you  have 
made  keeping  of  the  elephant.    That  is  a  good 
395 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

thing,  my  friend,  and  the  Gods  smile  on  you 
because  you  think  him;  keepsake  of  friendship 
of  more  value  than  gain  from  selling. 

"That  is  wisdom. 

"And  if  this  paper  you  find,  it  is  also  that 
you  have  known  the  proper  time  to  make 
breaking  of  elephant  and  throw  him  away, 
as  Ah  Fung  has  said.  That  is  a  better  thing, 
my  friends,  and  the  Gods  will  smile  on  you 
again  because  for  greed  you  do  not  keep  the 
gift  when  better  use  for  it  is  found. 

"That  is  greater  wisdom." 

"I  do  not  understand  a  word  of  it,"  growled  Mr. 
Stimson. 

"You  will,  when  I  tell  you  of  the  prophecy — now 
listen 

"And  now  Ah  Fung  has  promised  a  blessing 
if  you  have  done  these  things,  my  friend,  a 
blessing  to  you  and  to  your  house. 

"Look  in  the  paper  that  Ah  Fung  has  placed 
within  the  elephant,  and  you  will  learn. 

"May  the  Gods  preserve  you." 

"Sweet  sailor's  life  !"  Mr.  Stimson  exclaimed.  "I 
understand  that  part.  He  spoke  of  jewels  before — 
look  in  the  package,  Captain  Parsons !" 

"Soak  me!"  Matthew  smiled.  "After  all  these 
years — I  wonder.    Open  it,  Miss!" 

396 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

But  it  was  not  jewels  after  all. 

The  golden  haired  girl  untwisted  the  piece  of 
paper,  spilling  its  contents  on  the  table,  and  handed 
it  to  Matthew  for  there  was  writing  on  it  too. 

"This  will  astound  my  father,"  Matthew  said  after 
he  had  read  it,  while  Mr.  Stimson  looked  dispar- 
agingly at  the  thing  on  the  table.  "But  I  calculate 
it  is  mine  now,  for  he  would  never  have  found 
it,  and  the  blessing  was  to  come  to  me  if  I  had  the 
elephant.    Hear  what  the  Chinaman  has  to  say 

"In  this  paper  Ah  Fung  places  that  other 
thing  which  the  Lady  Hasu  No  Hana  put 
into  the  lacquer  box  as  a  gift  to  you  on  that 
night  in  Yeddo,  my  friend. 

"I'll  tell  you  about  that  too.  Soak  me,  there  was  more 
in  the  lacquer  box  than  I  dreamed — and  yet  she  said 
nothing  of  it  when  she  questioned  me  1  I  calculate  I 
answered  more  wisely  than  I  knew  about  the  branch 
— well,  no  matter,  listen 

"In  the  garden  Ah  Fung  sees  her  open  the 
box  before  she  make  him  gift  to  you.  Ah 
Fung  has  wisdom,  and  he  make  him  open  box 
also,  when  you  are  gazing  at  the  stars ! 

"Omae  wa  suki  da — hee  hee!  Ah  Fung 
makes  great  laughing. 

397 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"The  branch  of  flowers  Ah  Fung  leaves  in 
the  box  for  you  to  find,  because  it  is  only  a 
foolishness  soon  faded.  But  this  other  he 
makes  him  conceal  very  quick.  Because  it  was 
a  rash  thing  to  do,  for  the  Lady  Hasu  No 
Hana,  that  heedless  one,  and  for  you  also, 
who  have  the  tongue  of  a  sparrow,  my 
friend ! 

"That  is  one  amidship  for  Father! 

"In  the  Orient  the  breathing  of  fish  is  heard 
in  the  North  before  it  is  finished  in  the  South. 
The  flight  of  a  moth  in  Peking  is  thunder 
in  the  streets  of  Canton  on  the  morrow. 

"There  he  goes  with  his  riddles  again.  He  said  the 
same  to  me  when  I  had  gone  secretly  to  Japan,  as 
I  thought 

"The  telling  in  Yeddo  of  the  gift  she  make 
to  you  brings  death  to  the  Lady  Hasu  No 
Hana,  and  perhaps  a  sending  to  the  ancestors 
for  you. 

"So  Ah  Fung  make  him  conceal  until  many 
clouds  have  passed  over  the  face  of  the  moon. 
Now  he  place  the  gift  in  the  elephant,  for  a 
finding  if  you  have  wisdom. 

"A  precious  thing  it  is.  The  great  seal  of 
Echizen,  him  seeing  not  stopping  him  who 
398 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

carries  through  all  the  gateways  in  Jihpun- 
Kwoh.  Make  him  food,  make  him  sleep, 
make  him  roof  against  the  storm,  make  him 
safety  in  dangerous  ways.  Make  him  great 
trade. 

"You  who  have  wisdom  will  use  it  well  in 
the  days  to  come,  says  Ah  Fung. 

"The  Gods  preserve  you." 

"I  reckoned  it  was  jewels!"  Mr.  Stimson  com- 
plained. 

"So  did  Panama  Joe,"  Matthew  laughed.  "No, 
Ah  Fung  knew  this  was  more  valuable,  for — for 
many  reasons  \" 

He  held  it  out  for  them  to  see,  the  great  seal  of 
Echizen — the  opener  of  gateways  throughout  Japan, 
the  guarantee  of  safety  in  dangerous  ways,  and 
shelter  on  all  the  highroads  of  the  Shogun's  king- 
dom, the  password  to  unrestricted  commerce — a 
jade  seal,  stamped  with  the  gold  circled  crest  of  the 
greatest  Dainty o  of  them  all    .    .    . 

That  was  what  they  saw,  as  he  explained  it  to 
them,  but  to  Matthew  there  came  only  the  vision  of 
the  Lady  Hasu  No  Hana,  thirty  years  ago,  that 
heedless  one,  placing  her  heart  in  a  lacquer  box  to 
give  to  the  American  admiral  who  had  come  unbid- 
den, and  had  not  been  ungraciously  received    .    .    . 

399 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

"It  shall  be  my  wedding  gift  to  you,  Miss,"  he 
told  the  golden  haired  girl,  and  handed  it  to  her. 
"Sweet  sailor's  life  I"  said  Mr.  Stimson. 


"Of  course  I  don't  know  how  we'll  get  out  of 
here,"  he  was  saying  to  her  a  moment  later.  Mr. 
Stimson  had  gone  to  consult  Mr.  Luscomb  about 
"this,  now,  floating  wedding"  as  he  called  it. 

"Why,  Sir?" 

'I've  no  crew,  and  I've  got  no  cook,  and  I've  got 
no  stores — but  there's  a  ship,  and  a  parcel  of  mates, 
and  a  cat — and  there's  you — and  we'll  sail  from 
California,  Susanna,  don't  you  cry!" 

"I'm  not,"  she  informed  him. 

"You're  not  what?" 

"I'm  not  crying.  Oh,  of  course,  you  did  not 
know — that's  my  name,  Sir,  Susanna!" 

"Oh,  Susanna!"  Matthew  laughed,  and  this  time 
he  finally  did  kiss  her    .    .    . 

"Pipe  all  hands  to  man  the  windlass, 
See  your  cable  chains  stowed,  clear, 
Rolling  home!    Rolling  home! 
For  tonight  we  sail  from  Frisco, 
And  for  New  York  town  we'll  steer — 
400 


OH,  SUSANNA! 

Rolling  home,  rolling  home, 
Rolling  home  across  the  sea, 
Rolling  home  to  New  York  City, 
Rolling  home,  sweetheart,  to  thee 


THE  END 


401 


Laughing  House 

By 
Meade  Minnigerode 

"It  radiates  charm  on  every  page. 
It  is  a  realistic  novel,  written  in  prose ; 
yet  the  atmosphere  is  poetry.  .  .  . 
There  is  something  irresistible  in  the 
author's  manner  ;  he  conquers  you  at 
the  start,  and  holds  you  to  the  end 
in  happy  subjection.  .  .  .  When 
Mr.  Minnigerode  is  dealing  with  this 
family  he  is  altogether  charming. 
Perhaps  he  cannot  write  of  ugliness. 
.  .  .  Laughing  House  is  an  imaginative 
and  delightful  tale,  and  the  only 
shadow  is  followed  by  strong  sun- 
shine." 

WILLIAM  LYON  PHELPS 
in  the  New  York  Times 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  London 


THE  BIG  YEAR 

By  Meade  Minnigerode 

Author  of  "Laughing  House/'  etc 

You'll  find  "The  Big  Year"  a 
corking  college  story  —  and  then 
some !  The  breath  of  youth  ripples 
through  it.  It's  genuinely  alive  and 
real. 

You'll  love  Jimmie,  the  very 
human  little  newsboy,  and  Curly 
Corliss,  his  football-playing  hero. 
The  echoes  of  Angel  Benson's 
songs  will  linger  long.  And  as  for 
Doris  Ramsdell — well,  the  Senior 
Table  crowd  who  called  her  "the 
free-stone  peach"  were  right!  And 
then  there's  Dandy  Baxter  and 
Sparrow,  and  Champ,  the  bull  pup, 
who  grew  up  said  drank  beer. 
Also,  of  course,  the  Girl  in  the 
Car  who  ran  over  Jimmie  and  — 
well,  you'll  like  her  best  of  all. 

New  York  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons   London 


Beany,  Gangle=Shanks, 
and  the  Tub 

Ey 
Edward  Streeter 


This  is  a  Tarkingtonian  sort  of  a  book, 
full  of  humor  and  the  joy  of  life,  about 
boys  and  for  grown-ups.  It  is  un- 
necessary to  introduce  the  author, 
Edward  Streeter,  whose  "Dere  Mable" 
and  other  books  that  relieved  the  ten- 
sion of  wartime  literature  sold  upwards 
of  a  million  copies. 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  London 


The 

Leather  Pushers 

By 

H.  C.  Witwer 

This  is  the  story  of  Kane  Halliday, 
college  man,  football  hero,  and 
society  pet,  who,  driven  by  dire 
necessity,  fights  his  way  to  the 
world's  championship  heavyweight 
title,  and  incidentally  a  wife.  Halli- 
day's  lovable  roughneck  trainer  tells 
the  story  in  the  same  deliciously 
slangy  vein  in  which  the  author's 
From  Baseball  to  Bodies  and  other 
famous  sporting  tales  were  written 


New  York  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons  London 


SHOW  DOWN 

BY 

JULIA  HOUSTON  RAILEY 


A  book  that  was  lived  before  it  was  written 
— the  absorbing  story  of  a  small  town  Southern 
girl  who  fairly  erupts  from  an  Eastern  college, 
and,  as  a  pioneer  social  worker,  boldly  launches 
a  fight  on  crooks  and  rotten  conditions,  a  fight 
which  begins  in  a  backwoods  school  and  explodes 
in  the  shouting  sessions  of  a  state  legislature. 

WHAT  CRITICS  SAY: 


Philadelphia  Public  Ledger: 

"  Contrary  to  Sinclair  Lewis'  much  talked-of  4  Main 
Street,'  Mrs.  Railey's  book  tells  of  what  a  college  girl  may 
accomplish  in  a  small,  conservative  town.  The  story  of 
her  struggle  is  told  brilliantly  and  with  authority.  Women 
who  are  working  toward  attainment  of  their  complete  rights 
.  .  .  under  the  franchise  should  derive  real  inspiration 
from  '  Show  Down.'  " 


new  york         G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS  London 


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